


Spill Your Wine Over My Silk Roses

by Ludovica



Series: Paths of Silk beneath our Feet [1]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alpha Hercules, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Fashion & Models, Intersex Omegas, M/M, Model Marquis de Lafayette, Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Omega Marquis de Lafayette, Tailor Hercules, basically my take on a modern ABO society, beautiful clothes and pretty boys, nearly forgot to mention that oops, sappy romance stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-08
Updated: 2019-04-13
Packaged: 2019-07-08 16:26:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 18
Words: 44,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15934145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ludovica/pseuds/Ludovica
Summary: Hercules usually does his best to avoid making people around him uncomfortable. As an Alpha, that mainly means one thing: Keeping his scent blocked, especially when he is doing his work as a tailor at a high-end fashion label, getting close and personal with quite a number of models.It's just his luck that he forgets to take his scent blockers on the very morning he is supposed to take the measurements of the label's new superstar, the Omega top model known to the enitre fashion world as The Marquis...





	1. Chapter 1

“Fucking shit,” Herc gasped as the elevator doors closed behind him. He had overslept for the first time in years, and had hardly had time to grab a quick shower before he had run all the way to the office tower. He didn’t even know why he had overslept; his alarm had apparently gone off like normal, but he just hadn’t heard it, and when he’d woken up, he had seen with dread that it was already five minutes to eight.

And his workday was supposed to start at eight.

He looked down at himself as the elevator carried him higher and higher. The running had made the shower he’d taken earlier totally useless. His shirt was drenched in sweat at his collar, under his arms and down his sides, and he could feel the cold proof of sweat covering his back as well. He fucking hated running; physical activity made him sweat like a pig, and now he was going to come into work completely disheveled and looking like some kind of bum.

Which would have been an awful situation at any kind of workplace, but if you worked for one of New York’s leading haute couture designers, there were especially high expectations you got to fuck up with this kind of blunder.

At least he had an emergency shirt in a drawer at his station. Thank god for whatever had ridden him to bring that extra shirt to work a few months ago.

The elevator pinged to a stop, and Herc stumbled onto the atelier floor. He scanned his employee card at the milk glass door that kept everybody but authorized staff out of the label’s sanctum, then nodded to the secretary sitting right next to the large door leading to the creative director’s office before he turned into the hallway that led to the actual atelier.

He had hardly taken a step down that hallway when the atelier admin came towards him with a large portfolio map in her hand.

“Isobel is out on casting, the new ambassador is in, Colin wants you to do the measurements. He asked for you like five minutes ago -” suddenly she stopped and sniffed the air, and a deep frown settled on her face.

“Dude, you absolutely reek.”

Herc felt a blush burn on his cheeks. “Yeah, I kinda ran here… I just need to get my other shirt from my station, and-”

“No, not that. I mean, you also smell like sweat, but Herc, I thought you were on blockers?”

Sudden, cold panic ran down Herc’s sweat-soaked back.

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” he whispered. “Oh, for fuck’s sake!”

Since he had overslept, he hadn’t had breakfast. He hadn’t had his shake. He hadn’t taken his scent blocking pills that were lying right next to his mixer.

He was stinking up the entire floor with his Alpha scent.

“Okay, don’t panic,” the admin said, “change your shirt and pray to whatever you want to pray to that the new talent isn’t super scentsitive. It’d be far worse to let Colin wait even longer, or to send somebody in he hasn’t asked for, so go, go, go!”

She shoved the portfolio into his arms and then started to clap her hands rapidly to get him moving.

He rushed past her and through another glass door into the large, open-plan atelier. Some of the other staff greeted him, but he only answered them with hurried nods while he wove his way through tables and dress forms and rolls of fabric to his own work station.

Michaela, his table mate, looked up in surprise when he came up and opened his drawer.

“Damn, Herc, I thought you were out sick! What happened?”

“Sorry Mick, no time,” he said as he ducked behind the table to take off his shirt and put the new one on without any of the other tailors seeing him. “Boss wants me.”

He left her with a confused look on her face as he, his new shirt, his measuring pouch and the thick portfolio moved back through the atelier and out into the hallway again.

The sweat smell was less bad now, but now he was noticing his own scent quite distinctively. He couldn’t believe that this was happening to him; for years, since he’d been a teenager basically, he’d used scent blockers to keep people from noticing his smell. He didn’t really hide his Alpha status or anything, he didn’t lie about it - but he had always been acutely aware that he was making Omegas around him uncomfortable and that other Alphas reacted aggressively to him. He wasn’t the tallest Alpha around, not by far, but he was a husky guy, and his broadness alone,, coupled with his scent, could make other Alphas get ideas that he was posturing even when he wasn’t. And yeah, freaking Omegas out whenever he was near them wasn’t his idea of being a good coworker either.

But now here he was, reeking of Alpha pheromones and fresh sweat, about to enter his boss’s office to do measuring work on some model he’d never met before, which would mean that he’d have to stand very close to that person. He could hope that the model would be a Beta, like his boss, and be only slightly put off or grossed out by the smell, but if he was another Alpha, this already fucked up morning might turn even more stressful.

And if he was an Omega, he might be royally fucked. If their new goddamn brand ambassador thought a lowly tailor like him was trying to come on to him? Goodbye, job. He’d have to crawl back to his dad and try and get him to take him back into his accounting firm…

He opened the door before he could spiral even more - or be even later than he already was.

“Ah, finally,” he heard the pressed, clearly annoyed voice of Colin Hume, founder and creative director of Hume Couture.

Hume was standing behind his glass desk which was as always littered with sketches, his bleached blond hair in neat cornrows today so that it didn’t contrast as much with his cool, dark skin tone as it usually did. He was wearing a gaudy shirt that had likely cost at least as many hundred of dollars as the number of tiny multi-colored birds on it, and for a second that absolute abomination on a man who put out such genius designs baffled Herc so much that he didn’t even look at the second man in the room.

“Sorry, Mr Hume,” Herc said and handed his boss the portfolio.

Hume sniffed and gave Herc a strange look for a second, but fortunately he decide not to comment on what he was smelling. He flicked through the portfolio for a moment before he turned to the second man, a broad smile on his lips that made his thin face nearly round.

“Now, Gilbert, it looks like we can get this party started.”

Only then did Herc look at the other man in the room - and just when his eyes fell on that light-brown, bearded face, when he met those strangely soft eyes under perfectly curved eyebrows, did the smell hit him.

Their new talent wasn’t only Omega; he smelled like an Omega who had never even heard of scent blockers.

He knew that kind of smell from his college days; second puberty often didn’t happen until a person was 17 or 18, and at that point many of the young Omegas who were now coming to college didn’t want to take scent blockers. There were as many different reasons as there were Omegas - some just wanted to actually experience their own body’s functions for a while without having to impede them, others had adverse reactions to specific blockers and were still trying to find the right brand for them, and again others were just afraid that blockers might affect their budding fertility negatively (which, honestly, was a big old rumor as far as Herc knew, but it also didn’t do any harm). And then there were the people who believed that scent blocking was just another way for the kyriarchy to keep Omegas in their place, and that nobody should be ashamed for their smell. Herc had sympathized with those ‘free-scenters’ back then.

Alphas, in general, had both the same and very different reasons for not blocking. And there were way more of them who kept that free-scenting lifestyle after college.

It had been a long time since he had met an Omega who didn’t at all smell like the slightly citrusy remnants that even the weakest blockers emitted. Just the relaxing and enticing cinnamon and honey of an adult, unmated Omega.

He saw the Omega’s nostrils flare slightly, and then a little crinkle around the corners of his eyes, as if he was amused by Herc’s scent.

Herc resisted the urge to clear his throat. He was here to do his job, and that was what he would do.

“If you would just tug your shirt into your pants, Sir?” he asked, and the model complied. He was wearing a pale rose shirt, very light cotton, and fitted slacks that made his long legs appear even longer. As Herc put his measuring bag on the counter of a shelf and took out his tape, a pen and his notepad, he racked his brain where he’d seen the man before. He read enough men’s fashion magazines to keep up to date for his job to know most eminent male models, especially the black ones.

Suddenly it hit him - Colin had called him “Gilbert”, and even if he had butchered the pronunciation there, he was pretty sure he knew who he was facing - Gilbert de Motier. Or du Motier. He wasn’t quite sure there. But he definitely knew this guy - just that he had his hair pulled back in a tight, poofy ponytail right now, and wasn’t wearing it in his signature afro.

Well, fuck. Apparently Hume was going to be represented by the fucking Marquis.

“The Marquis” was a nickname he had gotten from the fashion press; some people rumored that Anna Vintour herself had started calling him that. It wasn’t just a nickname either, allegedly - as far as he had read, he was an actual French Marquis.

Great. He would have to get all up in a top model, aristocrat Omega’s face with his Alpha stink.

His only saving grace would be that the guy was obviously a free-scenter. But even some free-scenting Omegas weren’t all that happy to be in a room with a reeking Alpha.

He was acutely aware of the Omega’s eyes on him when he asked him to lift up his arms so he could measure his chest circumference. Colin had started to talk again, apparently picking up a thread of conversation that had begun before Herc had entered, and the Marquis was answering very pleasantly, just throwing in the right amount of comments to keep Colin’s mouth running.

He had a strange voice, that one. Of course, it was always strange to hear a model’s voice. You couldn’t see a person on magazine cover after magazine cover and not develop a certain expectation of what their voice would sound like. For starters, he would have thought that Motier’s voice would be deeper. The tone of his voice made him sound young, but then there was this faint rasping in it that gave it a very specific, very unusual quality. And then, of course, there was his accent. To be fair, his English was marvelous from what little he said. A lot better than most French models he’d met before. But there was still this emphasis on the last syllable, this drawing out of vowels that were not supposed to be drawn out, and this slight nasality that made him sound unfamiliar and, Herc had to admit it, pretty damn sexy. Of course he knew that it was just some strange conditioning that he and so many other Americans thought the sound of French accents was hot, and he had a strong suspicion that the Omega’s scent didn’t help with his reaction to his voice at all, but yeah, he liked listening to him talk.

He would have definitely preferred to listen to him talk than to try and tune out Colin telling the exact same story about Cara Delevigne he had heard forty times before. 

His smell was a definitely issue though. He had to re-measure his arm length and his neck circumference, because the numbers just fled his head as soon as he had taken the measuring tape away, which really never happened to him. But being so close to his neck was apparently fucking with his brain.

And if the neck was dangerous territory, his hips and legs were basically a minefield.

Herc pushed all indecent thoughts aside as he wrapped the measurement around the model’s hips, and honestly he succeeded quite well in that - until Colin turned around to look for some kind of document, and Motier looked down at Herc, their eyes meeting just as Herc wanted to get up and get back to his measurement pad. He was caught in that look like a deer in the flashlight, and judging by the nearly predatory smile on the other man’s lips, his facial expression must have made that quite obvious.

“Come here often?” Motier murmured, low enough that only Herc, whose hands were still on his hips, could hear it. For a moment he was just utterly confused - until he finally understood that he had made a joke. Not quite a funny joke, but definitely the kind of joke that you would use to start some playful workplace banter.

Which was absolutely not what Herc was here for. Even though the way the Marquis drew in air through his nose and let out the slightest sigh in the back of his throat made his knees weak with the primal understanding that passed between their two bodies.

But then Colin turned around again and saved Herc by continuing his story, which had now somehow turned into a recollection of the time he had been out horseback riding on the Ranch of a great-grand nephew of Elsa Schiaparelli.

While he measured out his leg length, Herc kept himself distracted from his scent as well as he could by thinking about why in the world a man like that would be flirting with a lowly staff member like him. Honestly, he wasn’t even especially attractive. He had been told that he had a nice smile by quite a few people, and he had never had problems finding himself a date back when he’d been more interested in that kind of thing, but he had always felt that he was remarkably average. Average height, average hair style, average face, slightly more heavy than average build. Attractive enough, true, but nothing to write home about. So the only reasons he could think about why a man like Marquis du Motier or whatever would look at him like that was a) he was really into subordinates, which was never a good sign, or b), which was much likelier, the fact that he was very obviously and very rudely advertising his secondary gender to everybody with a nose. But even then, there had to be enough potential Alphas in that guy’s life. Maybe it was a combination of the two and he had a thing for Alphas who had a lower social status than him?

He finished up his measurements and quickly copied all of them into a second template so he could give one to the atelier admin before he tore the first one off the pad and handed it to Colin.

“I’m done here, Mr. Hume.”

“Ah, wonderful,” Colin answered, squinting at the paper - his glasses were lying on top of a untidy stack of papers on his desk, since he usually took them off to gesticulate wildly with them whenever he was getting really into talking, and then he usually just put them somewhere and forgot about them. “Thank you very much, Herc. Tell Isobel you took the measurements already, so she knows they’re in the computer. And send the new secretary in please.”

Herc just nodded - the “new secretary” had been working here for four months, but Colin had also need about a year to stop calling Herc “Karl” for some unfathomable reason, so nobody really batted an eyelash anymore when he forgot the name of somebody who hadn’t been with his company from the beginning.

He put his stuff back into his measuring bag and turned to leave, but before he could do so he heard that intriguing voice calling out.

“Oh, and get me a mocha latte from the coffee shop across the street, will you? Soy and decaf, there’s a darling.”

Herc couldn’t help but turn around and stare at him. His stare was answered with an insolent, “what you gonna do about it” kind of grin, before Motier turned around and asked Colin to return to his story about the haunted dress forms at his design college.

Apparently “attraction” wasn’t quite what had made the Marquis flirt with him. Because if that wasn’t a “know your place” move, Herc really couldn’t tell what else it could have been.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys! I hope you're going to enjoy reading this fic as much as I enjoyed writing it. This whole thing has 18 chapters, and all of them are written already; I'm planning to upload once a week, either on Friday or Saturday.
> 
> If you want to say hi, I'm over on [tumblr](http://frillyfacefins.tumblr.com) :) Comments are always very, very much appreciated!


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I said I was gonna only upload once a week, but the first chapter looks so lonely.... :/

It was difficult to describe what he felt when he closed the door to Colin’s office behind him. Humiliation was one of the factors there, definitely. He had mistaken what had obviously been intended as derision as flirting. Now that he thought about it, it was easy for him to reinterpret the looks the Omega had given him as a kind of saucy ‘who do you think you are’ looks, seizing him up as if asking himself how to best show him who was boss, secondary gender be damned. It was basically what Herc had dreaded all along - that his smell would be misconstrued as arrogance or machismo. He was really not that kind of person, but he could well imagine that to an Omega, any Alpha getting that far into their personal space without even the decency to put on some cologne to overlay his scent would be seen as a challenge.

And from Motier’s point of view, he definitely had won that fictional challenge.

Herc gritted his teeth as he motioned to the secretary that she was wanted in the office. As he walked back to the atelier, he tried to get his rising anger under control.

“Has anybody seen Pinkie?”

One of his coworkers, whose mouth was currently filled with about a dozen pins, nodded towards the back part of the atelier where his and Michaela’s table was. Pinkie, their atelier assistant, was currently trying to return a pool of spilled sequins back into their little plastic baggie - with a foreseeable lack of success.

“You can leave those for now, Pink, the new talent wants a coffee. Mocha latte, soymilk, decaf.” The thought to get him full caf instead of decaf was tempting, but in the end he might have an allergy or something and even if he was annoyed, he didn’t want to hurt the guy. “And could you maybe get me some Alpha Block Pro from the drugstore? If I have to smell myself all day I’m going to go crazy.” Also it wouldn’t be great to have his scent all over the pieces he was working on. He fished a twenty out of his wallet, which he still hadn’t even taken out of his pocket with all the bustle of this morning, and pushed it into the boy’s hand.

“Sure thing,” Pinkie said and made a little salute motion, which resulted in him getting loose sequins that had been stuck to his hand into his bright pink dyed hair, before he turned on his heels and ran out of the room with the purposefulness of a person who had just been rescued from a dull and difficult job.

He heard a snicker behind him and turned to see Michaela bracing her elbows on their table.

“‘Alpha Block Pro’, sounds like it’d make a great nickname for me.” She grinned up at him before she sniffed the air. “Gotta say though, you smell incredible. You should come into work au naturell more often.” At least he could be sure that Michaela’s smile was one hundred percent flirty, other than that of a certain aristocrat model who should remain unnamed.

“Sorry, but I’m still gay, Micky.” He gave her a quick grin back before he unfolded the piece he was working on right now.

“Yeah, of course you are.” Michaela sighed and returned to sewing pink beads to a sleeve in a pattern so intricate that Herc’s fingers ached just from looking at it. “What’s that stupid saying, all the good ones are gay, married or Omega?”

Herc raised an eyebrow at his Omega tablemate. “Wasn’t that Jay guy Omega? I mean, you went out with him for months.”

Michaela grinned. “Yeah, I guess that part of that saying doesn’t quite count for me. Man, I miss Jay…” She changed to blue beads. “Honestly, I don’t get why some Omegas don’t want to fuck other Omegas. I mean, from my limited experience, it’s just better if you share at least some of the important parts, you know?”

With that she let go of her piece for a moment and made a very obscene gesture with two of her fingers, a shit-eating grin on her face.

Herc let out a little snort before he finally managed to turn his attention to the shawl collar he was working on.

*******

He didn’t see the Marquis again that day, but he still couldn’t get him out of his head. With his scent glands smothered in a layer of Alpha Block cream, he had been able to work as usual without distracting himself with his smell, but the memory of that warm body under his hands, of those intense eyes looking at him, through him; of that strange voice with its tiny rasp just this side of audible… All of that stuff was more of a distraction than his scent likely ever would have been.

He was an idiot, to be honest. He had known that any Omega of a higher social status than him would feel challenged by his stink. He should have remembered that, instead of getting lost in a pretty pair of eyes and three flirty-sounding words.

At the end of the work day, he borrowed a cloth tote bag to put his sweaty shirt in and made a reminder note in his phone to bring a new emergency shirt into work tomorrow; then he said goodbye to Michaela, who was wrapping up her beading, and left the atelier.

It was cool outside for a July evening in New York, cool enough that Herc wished he’d brought a jacket. Maybe he should keep an emergency jacket in the atelier too, together with his emergency shirt, he thought as he briskly walked through the rush hour, not even noticing the people around him as his thoughts kept moving back to the Marquis. It was ridiculous, really. He needed to stop thinking about him; what was he, some 15 year old fanboy? It really wasn’t as if he hadn’t been working with enough hot supermodels before to avoid this kind of reaction. Hell, he wasn’t even interested in meaningless flirting anymore; those days of his life were past him, and now what he wanted was to wait for the kind of relationship that would survive until his old age. He wasn’t actively looking for a husband, but he had also lost interest in casual dating, and right now he was just kind of floating around. To be honest, he wanted a family. A little suburb house, kids, the whole shebang. He was over adventures.

But still he couldn’t resist stopping when he saw the Marquis’ face looking at him from the cover of a glossy fashion magazine at a newspaper stall. He looked different on the photo, like all models look different, thanks to professional lighting and photoshop. His skin had a more saturated color, his hair was big and poufy (likely not all photoshop, though they might have enhanced it a little), and his smile was out of this world. Okay, the last one was real, as he’d experienced today.

He bought the glossy, and then out of a whim he bought two gossip magazines that mentioned his monicker on their cover pages. Then, with his shameful bounty rolled up in his hand, he walked the rest of the way to his apartment building.

The first thing Herc did when he came home was to swallow his forgotten scent blocker pill and to take a long, hot shower to get rid of the dried sweat and the lingering Alpha scent. He still had the Marquis’ scent in his nose, so he used the extra fragrant rose and sandalwood shower gel from the gift pack his brother’s wife had given him for Christmas.

Once he had managed to forget that honey and cinnamon aroma, he stepped out of the shower and, clad in nothing but a towel, threw together a simple barley and beef stew, his absolute favorite comfort food. After he’d made it simmer beautifully, he sat down on his couch to wait for it to finish.

The magazines he had bought were lying on his couch table, and even though the little voice at the back of his head was telling him that it might not be a great idea, he took the glossy fashion magazine and started to flip through it.

The photoshoot with the Marquis was showcasing several new in-items from designers who were expected to be the opinion leaders during the next fashion week in September. Nothing from Hume, yet; he guessed their arrangement was still pretty fresh. It was all strong, saturated colors, gemstone colors like sapphire blue, emerald green and ruby red. In one of the pictures he was wearing a beautiful D&C three-piece silk satin suit in a rich emerald color with a wine red shirt. On the pic he had a wine glass lifted up to his lips and looked out at the viewer with a look in his eyes that seemed to say “I’d rather have you than this wine glass”, and the way his fingers curled around the collar of his suit jacket made Herc’s mouth water.

He tore himself away from the fashion magazine and picked up one of the gossip mags. The title story was something about Pippa Middleton, and he had to browse for a few moments before he found the story about the Marquis.

In the course of the article, Herc found out a few very interesting things about the top model. First, it was actually du Motier, not de Motier; and the thing he was a Marquis of was Lafayette, even though he didn’t know what or where Lafayette was; but that was what the magazine called him, Marquis du Lafayette.

The second thing he found out was that he had the reputation to be a major slut. Either that, or the writer of that article had a bone to pick with him. Again and again throughout the article the author kept mentioning past relationships he’d had, insinuated some more, and showed picture after picture of him with his arm around famous men and women, most of them Alphas, but also the one or other Beta. The article itself was about how he had been seen leaving a club with a football player just about two days ago.

The article in the other magazine had pretty much the same kind of message, just that it was much shorter - and it was about a different Alpha, who had been photographed with du Motier during lunch. The angle of the picture allowed for a very obvious look at the hand that was running up the Marquis’ leg, but for those who still didn’t get what was going on, the magazine had put a cut-out of that part next to the whole picture and blown it up.

Du Motier did seem to have quite a lot of experience flirting with Alphas, as it seemed. No wonder he had done it so effortlessly just to teach him a lesson this morning.

He leaned back on the couch and stared at his ceiling. He didn’t quite know what to think about all this new information. If the Marquis wanted to sex it up all around the city, that was definitely none of his business, and he honestly thought the way these gossip mags were writing about it was pretty ridiculous. Of course, there was still a certain taboo about Omegas sleeping around, the usual hypocritical shit with Alphas being praised for getting their hands and other parts on as many non-Alphas as possible, while people were still expecting Omegas to only fuck when they thought they could get a spouse and a family out of it.

But it did cause some fucked up feelings in his chest to think of that beautiful asshole of an Omega spreading his legs for celebrity Alpha after celebrity Alpha. Annoyance that was dangerously close to jealousy, for one. But also, he couldn’t stop thinking about him being pushed against a wall and having that beautiful emerald three-piece suit ripped off his body, and then being railed by a big, strong Alpha until those burning eyes were rolling back into his head…

Fucking shit, now his cock was hard.

He took a quick look at his phone to see how far the timer had counted down. He apparently still had at least ten minutes until his stew would be done.

Herc let out a deep sigh as he opened his pants and took his cock out. This was such a bad idea. But who knew - maybe this was what he needed to get this whole shitty day, and especially the Marquis, out of his system.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eeeeey here we go :D I‘d love if you left some comments or hit me up on my tumblr!

Hercules saw hardly anything of du Motier in the following weeks, since all the personal fitting for their top talent was done by Isobel, the head seamstress. After a while, he forgot most about him while work in the atelier became busier and busier with the September fashion week approaching. The Spring Summer collection was coming together under their hands, fine silks, strong colors and excessive beading and embroidery in classic cuts that nearly veered into old-fashioned territory. He wasn’t personally a fan of beading or sequins, but he did appreciate the nearly baroque-looking embroidery some of his colleagues were producing. He also appreciated that they weren’t working with leather like they had been for the last Fall Winter collection - he swore he still had welts on his fingers from that nightmare.

The next time he was actually in the same room with du Motier was backstage before the show, and Herc honestly believed he was over what had happened between them. He had just rubbed the model the wrong way, and he had protected his territory, so to speak; he could understand that. They exchanged polite nods when their eyes met, and then both of them were so taken up by the preparations for the event that none of them had any time to dwell on month-old grudges.

It was minutes before the start of the show, and Herc was busy lacing up a corset-inspired top for one of the models when he suddenly heard Pinkies voice calling out “Oh no!” He was just doing the final knot, and as his fingers were twisting the last pieces of lace he looked over his shoulder to see what had happened.

Pinkie was standing about ten feet away from him and was holding his hand, staring at it with a look of absolute shock. Du Motier was standing next to him, leaning towards him, frantically murmuring something.

There was a red stain on the front of the white dress shirt he was supposed to model with an embroidered two-piece suit.

Herc finished the knot as fast as he could, then he turned and hurried over to the two of them.

“Pink, what happened?” he asked the boy, who was holding his bleeding, shaking hand so hard with his other hand that it was starting to look blue.

Pinkie stared up at him with eyes that were filling with tears, then he stammered: “I… I…”

When he closed his mouth again, obviously not able to actually form words, du Motier butted in. “A button was lose and he was sewing it on again, and suddenly he was bleeding.” The model made a move with his hand as if to run it through his hair, but he seemed to remember all the work the stylists had put into it at the last second. “I think he pricked himself - is that the word? And now he is, I don’t know, panicking?”

The blood welling out of Pinkie’s hand was dripping on the floor now.

“That is an awful lot of blood for a needle prick,” Herc murmured as he turned around to open some drawers until he found a kleenex pack and pulled out a tissue.

“I…” Pinkie tried again, swallowing as Herc pried his uninjured hand away to wipe up some of the blood with a tissue. “I… I’m a bleeder,” he said, and as Herc looked up he could see tears fill the boy’s eyes. “Like… like haemophilia…” Pinkie sniffed and accepted the next tissue Herc was giving him. “And I…” Now the tears were flowing over his cheeks, “I’ve ruined the shirt…”

He pointed to the spot just below du Motier’s collar where a button was still hanging on only one thread which was still connected to a thin needle hovering over a very intense, if not too big red stain. It was extraordinarily badly placed - the suit he was going to model didn’t close all the way up, and the stain would be very, very visible out there.

Pinkie was wheezing now. “I’m going to get fired, I won’t get to work in fashion anymore, I always just wanted to work in fashion, I fucked up so bad, I…” His blubbering disolved into sobs, and Herc gave him another tissue to cry into. This was a fucked up situation. Du Motier was about to have to go outside, and he couldn’t model a dirty piece - if Colin found out about what exactly had happened, then yeah, Pinkie was absolutely right, he would get fired.

He felt horribly sorry for the boy, even though a part of him was wondering how somebody with haemophilia ever got into working in a job that used so many needles and scissors as haute couture sewing.

“N’importe quoi!” du Motier suddenly spat out, and took the kleenex pack from Herc’s hand to pull out a tissue; then he grabbed Pinkie’s hand and made just a few drops of blood drip onto his own kleenex.

“This can happen, little one, and there is no reason why you should lose your job over it,” he said with an air of righteous indignation. “Don’t you worry about anything. Do you have any kind of medication for this situation or do you need to go to the hospital?”

Pinkie looked up at du Motier through tear-heavy lashes and said, his voice hoarse and confused: “I… I should really go home. I have no anticoagulant here, I’m so careful usually, this hasn’t happened in so long… But I’ve got meds at home…”

“Alright, I’m going to get you an uber,” Herc said, pulling out his phone. “Nobody is going to notice that you’re gone with all this commotion. But Motier, what are you…”

He stopped in the middle of his sentence as he looked up and saw the Marquis walk over to where Colin was draping a thin silk cloth around another model’s head and shoulders as if it was the fondant on a birthday cake. Herc couldn’t hear what he was saying, but he saw du Motier showing the bloody tissue he had wrapped around his own finger to Colin, and then Colin was tearing at his own hair with the hand that wasn’t holding the end of the cloth. Du Motier leaned closer towards him, and suddenly Colin’s face lit up and he nodded, then turned back to his alternative origami.

Du Motier came back toward them, with a smile on his lips like a cat that had just done something absolutely horrible to its owner’s shoes and was very pleased with it too.

“Alright, pas de probléme,” he said and threw the tissue into a basket about six feet away, perfectly landing his shot. “I told him I was not careful and tried to take the needle out of your hand, and pricked myself then. I told him we could just take the shirt off and model the suit without a shirt, like Gucci did last year. That has more of an art flair anyway.”

He carefully took the needle off the thread and laid it aside before he started to unbutton his shirt.

Herc looked down at his phone as it beeped.

“Your uber’s here,” he told Pinkie, then he looked up at du Motier who was now looking for his suit jacket on the rack. He gave himself a moment to take in that really, really fine body in front of him, the strong arms, the shaved chest, the incredibly soft-looking skin of his belly hiding something that would surely turn into a six-pack if he flexed in the right way, but then he quickly cleared his throat to bring himself back into reality.

“You okay here?” he asked the model, slightly embarrassed by the hint of hoarseness in his voice.

Du Motier just grinned. “Get the boy to his taxi before the tissues are finished” he said, then he turned around as Colin called out that they had exactly three minutes before the show started.

Pinkie was still sniffing into his now completely wet tissue when Herc pushed him towards the back exit and past security.

“Hey, chin up, kid,” he said, one hand on his shoulder giving him a gentle squeeze. “A fucking top model just saved your ass. This is going to make an awesome story in five years.”

Pinkie sniffed again, but nodded, patting the wet tissue against his red eyes. He looked so small and lost that Herc’s heart was aching, but he knew it’d all be okay. They’d averted the crisis, thanks to du Motier.

“Tell him thank you from me, please?” Pinkie asked as he sat down in the waiting car, and Herc nodded and pushed the packet of kleenex into his hand.

“I’ll do that,” he said. “And you better keep some of your medicine with you from now on, understood?”

Pinkie nodded back. “Okay,” he croaked, then he turned to the driver to tell him his home address. Herc closed the door behind him and the car drove off.

When he returned to the backstage area, everybody was watching the monitors that showed what was happening on the stage with bated breath. Despite the blaring music, there was a strange kind of quiet as the models, one after another, went out and walked down the catwalk.

Du Motier did extremely well, but Herc wouldn’t have expected anything else. That man just had this strange, intense presence, even when he was just walking with a blank model expression on his face. The fabric of the suit looked gorgeous against the bare skin of his chest, an intense red with golden and blue embroidery, and honestly, it made for a far more interesting look than the very straight-cut shirt would have given him.

When the show was over, somebody broke out the bottles and they toasted their success. The models, Colin, his various directors and Isobel were invited to an afterparty with a few other smaller labels, but for the tailors and stylists and assistants, their workday was finally done. Herc was still feeling too charged, though, to just go home, and he also didn’t feel like grabbing a drink with some of the other staff, so he volunteered to oversee the cleaning staff and to get the label’s things savely back into the van which had brought all the stuff to the venue. Before they left, his coworkers made sure that all the outfits were in their plastic wraps, and the stylists took all of their stuff with them, so there wasn’t really all that much to do; basically he just had to roll the racks outside and into the van, collect any other property of the label, and see if the cleaners found anything anybody had forgotten or anything he had missed.

He shot a quick text off to Pinkie while he was waiting for the cleaners to wrap up, just to make sure he was okay. He got back a long apology with about twenty emojis, and a reminder to please thank du Motier from him.

With a smile, he put the phone in his pocket and sat down with his still half-full glass of sparkly wine. He watched the cleaning staff for a while, sipping his wine - until suddenly the side door opened and du Motier came in, now again in his ‘civilian’ clothes.

He seemed to be as surprised to see Herc as Herc was to see him.

“Hey,” he said, waving. “I noticed that I forgot my phone in my jacket earlier - I put it in there during the drinks.”

“Oh, sure,” Herc said and put down his glass. “Just follow me, the stuff is already in the van.”

He led Motier out of the back entrance again into an alley where the van was parked. With a nod to the security guard who was stationed to watch the precious haute couture pieces inside, he climbed onto the ramp and started to look through the clothes in their clear plastic wrapping until he found the red embroidered suit jacket. He carefully opened the wrapping and touched first the right pocket, then the left one, where he found the phone and pulled it out.

“Here you go,” he said after he’d rewrapped the jacket and come back out. Du Motier took his phone with a sigh of relief.

“Thank you very much,” he said, then immediately started it and did some things on it before he put it back into the pocket of the light brown suede jacket he was wearing.

“My pleasure,” Herc said. He was rather happy that they could talk like that to each other - like normal humans who had never had that unpleasant experience when they’d first met.

“Oh, and before I forget it,” he continued when he remembered Pinkie’s text. “Pinkie has asked me to thank you for what you’ve done there earlier.”

Du Motier just waved his hand at that, moved his weight a bit farther back and put his hands in his pocket. “Nonsense. I’m not going to allow somebody to suffer just because of some stupid accident.”

He had such a serious look on his face when he said that; Herc suddenly felt a very unwarranted, but not unpleasant warmth pool in his chest.

“It was still really decent of you. There are definitely people who wouldn’t have acted like that. It’s nice to see that even the high and mighty can have pity with a panicky little assistant.”

At that, the serious expression melted off du Motier’s face and he let out a laugh. “‘High and Mighty’, hm? See, we are all in this together, are we not? I mean, I wear the clothes, sure, and Mr. Hume designs them - but if you guys would not make them, there would be no clothes for me to wear, and Mr. Hume’s designs would just be pretty pictures.”

Herc let out a little snort. Of course, every tailor and seamstress knew that, and Colin usually treated them well enough to make Herc think that he also knew it; but he had never heard that from a model before.

But usually his contact with models was restricted to the stressful prepping period right before a show.

“Thank you, that’s a really nice compliment. I’ll be sure to give it to Pinkie too. Kid still feels like shit, I think.”

Du Motier smiled at him, an honest, open smile that made his stupid heart skip a beat.

“You do that.” He turned towards the exit of the alley, but then suddenly he looked back at Herc.

“Oh, and we are going to have dinner tomorrow. You and me. Eight o’clock, at Jacques Maçon. I’m paying.”

And with that, he walked past the van and was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Date night wooo
> 
> As always, I love love love every single comment I get <3

Herc definitely hadn’t expected that. He didn’t know what he had expected, or if he had even expected anything, but that? Nope. He wouldn’t even have thought that anything like this could have happened at this point. After all, hadn’t they basically just transitioned from really unfriendly misunderstanding to some sort of grudging respect? But here it was; the Marquis, one of the most lauded male models of the season, had asked him on a date.

Well, he hadn’t really “asked”. He had told him they would be going on a date. Just like that.

Herc really didn’t know what to think of that. One the one hand, it was pretty damn rude to just assume he even wanted to go on a date with him, even though he was pretty sure that most people wouldn’t turn down that kind of opportunity. On the other hand, the thought of spending more time with du Motier - and actually spending time alone with him - that was pretty exciting. He wondered how he’d be on a date. What kind of person he was in private.

As he wrapped up the last bits of work, he kept asking himself if it was a good idea to go. If he should just not show up. After all, du Motier hadn’t even given him a chance to answer. What if he had plans for tomorrow evening? It was still fashion week, after all; it wouldn’t be too out of the ordinary for somebody working in the fashion industry to have previous arrangements.

Come to think of it, how was it that du Motier had time to just go on a date during the busiest time of the season?

He picked up take-out on his way home. When he reached his apartment, he let himself fall on his couch with his pierogi and a fork, not even taking the time to get the food out of its plastic box as he kept thinking while he ate.

He came to the conclusion that he would have to go. First of all, it was a pretty unique opportunity to make friends with somebody so high up in the industry; and second, he didn’t have his phone number, or his e-mail, so there was simply no way to actually tell him he wasn’t coming. And Herc didn’t stand people up; he just didn’t do that. The thought of du Motier sitting in his fancy restaurant, waiting for him just for him to never show up made him feel sick to his stomach.

Given these two really good reasons, he felt that it was perfectly fine for him to also admit that he really did want to go. He hadn’t been in any super fancy restaurant in a long time, and he had enjoyed the bit of conversation he had had with du Motier tonight. He wanted to know more about him.

Also, he kind of wanted to apologize for their first meeting. Maybe he could explain tomorrow that it really hadn’t intended to offend him, and that it had really been an accident.

All in all, the idea of going on that date tomorrow started to sound really good to him.

******

They had the day after the big show off, so Herc had plenty of time to get himself ready for his date at Jacques Maçon. First of all, he googled the restaurant. He could have guessed from the name that it was a French place, and given its very restricted, but elegant web presence, he guessed it was pretty high-brow. It was a good thing that du Motier had said he’d pay. He briefly wondered whether it was strange for a French person in the US to go to a French restaurant - it seemed a bit like the equivalent of an American going to some kind of American Steak House in Paris. But of course, everything French seemed more cultured, at least when you were in the US, so that didn’t seem all that comparable after he’d thought about it for a while.

He spent about an hour trying to decide which suit to wear. He might not be making even a tenth of what du Motier likely did, but he still had his pride as a tailor, and that pride manifested as three different very, very elegantly tailored suits from various high-end labels. He finally decided on the dark brown one with the dark green embroidery on the vest, to keep with Hume’s season styles, and also because it made him look like a proverbial million dollars, if he might say so himself. His hair didn’t give him much trouble, since he kept it short as a rule, and for his face he just went with clean-shaven and some moisturising cream. He didn’t really like how beards looked on him, though he had experimented with them quite a bit back in college.

After he had looked himself over in his bathroom mirror for about twenty minutes, he finally left his building and took a taxi to the restaurant. He had made extra sure that he’d taken his scent blocker today, but he still absolutely didn’t want to risk showing up sweaty to a swanky place like that.

Only when he arrived in front of the restaurant did he start to feel like it was a bit of an awkward arrangement to meet in front of this kind of place. Didn’t people usually just go inside and wait for whoever they wanted to meet? Or arrive together in the first place? And what if du Motier was already inside, and Herc would just wait here outside because he seriously didn’t have the gall to waltz into a place like this and just ask if one of New York’s top models had already arrived? It was five minutes to eight now, and as he looked at his phone, he absolutely dreaded every minute he’d have to wait. They really should have exchanged phone numbers.

He was lucky though, because after only one minute of waiting - and he knew exactly how long he waited because he just kept staring at the time on his phone - he suddenly heard a familiar voice call out: “There you are! I am so glad you came!”

Herc turned to see du Motier approaching, clothed in a dark green suit not unlike the one he had seen in that magazine, but with a light blue shirt instead of bright red, which Herc thought was a very interesting choice, but it honestly suited him.

He smiled at him and reached a hand out as du Motier came closer, which du Motier took instantly - before he put his other hand on his shoulder and kissed both of his cheeks. His lovely honey-and-cinnamon Omega scent rose into Herc’s nose, but it was overlaid with an expensive smelling mix of rose, camomile and a kind of woody smell he couldn’t quite place.

Herc was slightly taken aback by the sudden closeness and the olfactory assault, but then quickly came back to himself and said with a little grin: “I guess that’s a French custom?”

Du Motier raised his eyebrows. “Somebody who works in the fashion industry and has your looks should be accustomed to being kissed for a greeting, no?” Then he grinned as well and gave him a pat on the shoulder. “Let’s go in, yes?”

Herc nodded. “Lead the way.”

He opened the door for du Motier and waved him in, then he followed. They were immediately received by a hostess, and as soon as du Motier had mentioned his name, “Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette.”, they were led to a table slightly to the side of the dining room, calm enough to make a conversation possible but also central enough to give them a good view of the other guests. Herc didn’t quite know where to look first - at the lavish table setting, at the elegant, distinguished people around them, or at the smiling face in front of him. But of course his eyes settled on the latter.

“Do you come here often?” he asked as a waiter gave them the menus with a little greeting to du Motier, as far as Herc understood. His French was honestly not all that great. Or even all that there.

“Every once in a while,” du Motier said with a smile. “The owner has another restaurant in Paris that I like a lot, so if I’m in New York I come here to get a bit of… le flair de Paris, you know?”

“Are you from Paris then?” Herc asked as he opened the menu. There were no prices next to the items, and he had to keep himself from swallowing hard at that. So this really was a “If you have to ask, you can’t afford it” kind of place, huh?

“Not really, no. My family is from the Auvergne - that is near the center of France. We have some hills and some very pretty volcanos. Not alive, of course.”

He smiled at Herc as he closed his own menu. Herc was still trying to figure out the French in his own when he heard du Motier clear his throat slightly.

“Now, I am very embarrassed, but I do not even know your full name. Mr. Hume has called you Herc, has he not, but that seems to be a nickname…?”

Herc looked up at that and smiled at the slightly discomfited expression on the Marquis’ face. “Hercules Mulligan. I usually go by Herc, but Hercules is also fine.”

At that, du Motier smiled again. “That is a very good name. I don’t much like Greek Mythology myself, but I do really like the Agatha Christie novels with Hercule Poirot, you know those?”

“I’ve seen a few of the films,” Herc answered.

“I did love the new one, the one with the Orient Express,” du Motier said. “I watched it quite a few times on my transatlantic flights.”

That made Herc sit up a little straighter, lean a little closer to the table. But before he could tell him that he also had really enjoyed that one, a waiter disrupted them; and Herc still hadn’t decided what he wanted to eat. He had, however, accidentally closed his menu when they had started talking, which was likely the reason the waiter had come over.

Du Motier put in his order in smooth French, and the waiter answered in French as well. Then he looked at Hercules, and Herc could feel the heat rise into his cheeks as he frantically opened the menu again.

But just as he had done yesterday with Pinkie, du Motier now came to his rescue.

“Let me help you with that,” he said in a voice as if it was the most natural thing in the world to have problems deciding on your food in a restaurant. “What are you partial to, fish, beef? Anything you dislike very much?”

Herc could still feel the blush on his face, but he also felt immense relief and gratefulness towards du Motier.

“I like fish and beef the same, to be honest. And the only things I really don’t like are celeriac and cilantro.”

Du Motier nodded. “Any allergies? You do drink alcohol, yes?”

Herc nodded. “I drink, yeah. And I don’t really have allergies, but I don’t like eating extremely spicy.” His brother had married a girl from a Nigerian family, so that had become an honest to god issue.

“I don’t think that’s going to be a problem here,” du Motier said with a cheeky sparkle in his eyes, then he turned to the waiter and told him something in French again.

The waiter nodded and took their menus, then he left them alone.

“I’ve ordered us both the same first course, a shrimp dish that I like very much, with a Viognier; then lamb for me and beef loin for you, with a Merlot, and then we will get the dessert menu and I can help you find something on there.”

Herc’s smile returned to his lips. “Thank you a lot. My French is- well, I think even saying something like “my French” would be an exaggeration. I know the lingo I need for my job, but otherwise…” He shrugged his shoulders.

Du Motier’s smile showed off his enviably white teeth. “Don’t you worry, not everybody needs to know all languages, in my opinion. I have studied English in school since I was nine, and my English is still not perfect. And not everybody has the chance to start so young, or has the time later in life.”

“Your English is really good, though,” Herc said.

Du Motier waved him off. “I think it is quite good too, to be honest, but I also know that I have an accent, and sometimes I mix up grammatic things. But honestly, I do not care very much at this point, as long as everybody can understand what I am saying.”

“That definitely,” Herc said as the waiter brought them two aperitifs that looked like sparkly wine to him. “And let’s be real, your accent is very, very nice to listen to.”

Du Motier laughed. “I’ll drink to that,” he said and lifted his glass. Herc did the same, and their glasses touched with a gentle clink.

When they had put them down again after their first sips, du Motier leaned in a little closer.

“Now, Hercules, since you did not know where I was from, do you mind me asking, you did not read my wikipedia article, right? It is always a bit weird to have a first date with somebody and they know the name of your parents, your high school and every show you were ever in.”

Herc couldn’t keep away a frown at that question. Honestly, he hadn’t even thought that he could do that. But of course du Motier would have a wikipedia page, he was famous enough for that.

“I didn’t, no. Though I did read some gossip stories about you.” An embarrassed grin stole onto his face.

That made the other man laugh again. “Oh yes, they like me a lot, the gossip reporters. The American and the British ones especially, they are so fascinated with my love life.” He grinned at Herc and took another sip of the aperitif.

Herc shrugged, grinning. “Pretty people fucking other pretty people will always be very interesting to reporters, I guess.”

Du Motier nodded. “Especially when it’s Omegas sleeping around. So they can mix their second-hand horniness with some moral outrage.”

That was actually a really good way to put it, even though it made Herc a tiny bit uncomfortable that he had gone in that direction. He just wanted to use this opportunity to apologize for their first meeting when the waiter brought their first course, shrimp in some kind of butter-and-parsley sauce, and it smelled so delicious that he forgot all about what he had wanted to say.

After they had finished the first course, which was honestly delicious but also far too small for Herc’s taste, du Motier went back to talking before he could bring up the whole issue again.

“So, Hercules, where are you from? Do you have any siblings?”

Herc took a sip from the white wine that had replaced the sparkly wine. “My family is originally from Dublin, Ireland,” he said and watched du Motier’s eyebrows go up at that admission. Most people were surprised at that.

“But you do not seem to have an accent, as far as I can tell?” asked the Marquis, his own wine glass in hand now.

“I came here when I was like, six. And since I got teased for my accent a lot, I dropped it very quickly.”

Du Motier made a face at that as if he was pitying six-year-old Herc.

“And I do have a brother,” Herc continued. “His name is Hugh, he is a little younger than me, but already managed to get himself hitched.”

The Marquis suddenly grinned as he took a sip of his wine. “Forgive me, but I am just wondering what went through your parents mind, giving their first son such an unusual name like ‘Hercules’ and then going with ‘Hugh’ for the second one.”

Herc let out a little snort. “Maybe a social experiment, who knows. They might have wanted to see how well a kid with a strange name did in comparison to one with a normal name.” He didn’t think his parents really had thought that, but as a teenager that had very much been a thing he had considered.

Du Motier let out a laugh again, but a short, snorty laugh that seemed to be slightly unintentional. He giggled for a second after that - and even though Herc would never have considered it, but he was incredibly cute when he was giggling - before he looked up at him again.

“I’m very sorry, but that just really how do you say, cracked me up.” His grin spread over his whole face. “If that is the case, I guess I would have been a very good control group on the side of the strange name.”

“Is Gilbert du Motier that strange a name?” Hercules, who was really unfamiliar with French names, asked.

“Oh, no, not really,” du Motier said, taking another sip of his wine even though he was still grinning. “You see, my whole name is Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roche Gilbert du Motier, Marquis de Lafayette.”

Herc stared at him as if he’d just taken his head off to reveal a smaller head.

“You’re kidding, right?”

Du Motier just grinned. “My closer acquaintances and friends just call me Lafayette.”

Now it was Herc’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Oh, you want to tell me that your friends do not call you Marie Joseph Yves St. Laurent-”

“Marie Joseph Paul Yves Roche Gilbert,” du Motier - Lafayette - answered with a chuckle.

Herc shook his head in disbelief and took up his wine glass again. “So how come Colin - I mean, Mr. Hume - called you Gilbert? Isn’t it a bit strange in general that your friends would use like, the last part of your name? I guess I get why you wouldn’t want to go by Marie, but Joseph is a perfectly fine name.”

“I come from a very old family,” Lafayette said before sipping his drink again. “It is basically tradition that you would put as many names as possible in there - the call name of your father, your grandfather, your godfather, et cetera, and then you would actually be called by the name that is right before the surname. Lafayette just kind of stuck in my circle of friends when I was younger - it’s not unusual to call your friends by their surnames in France, and Lafayette sounds a bit less aristocratic than du Motier.” He smiled again, that cheeky little smile that seemed to make his eyes sparkle. “And I let American business partners call me Gilbert, because most Americans seem to be more comfortable using first names. They think it makes you friends automatically or something. Honestly, they just have very little… personal distance? Is that a word?”

“I think we use ‘personal space’ more, but I understand what you mean,” Herc answered.

“Yes. Also, I have to tell you that I hate how Americans pronounce my name.” He made a face at that and gestured with his nearly empty wine glass. “I mean, my name is not ‘GilBURT’, you know? Or even worse, ‘Jill-burt’.”

“Jill-burt, oh my god,” Hercules whispered, hardly able to hold his own laughter in.

Lafayette snorted. “But yes, that is also a reason why I like to go by Lafayette among my friends, especially non-French ones. Most people manage to pronounce that correctly.”

“I guess it slips off the tongue a little easier than Gilbert, yes.” He did his best to pronounce it as French as he could, and if he judged Lafayette’s smile correctly, he seemed to have succeeded.

“So,” he went as he downed the last of his white wine. “Any siblings on your side?”

Lafayette also finished his wine, his gaze clouding and sliding away from him in a way that made Herc immediately regret his question.

“Sadly, no. I would have loved siblings, I think, but it never happened.”

There was a heavy tone in his voice, and Herc decided to drop the whole family thing.

“So, you said you read Agatha Christie? Anything else you like to read?”

It was kind of a lame question, but he also really wanted to change the topic.

And judging by the way Lafayette’s eyes lit up again, he thought he had changed it to the right topic.

“I am very into history,” he said, leaning forward on the table with his lower arms on it, which Herc knew had to be bad manners but also made him look really goddamn adorable, like an eager kid telling him a secret.

“The place where I grew up had a ton of books, most about the family, but my family was involved in a lot of very cool things. So I got into the French Revolution very early, and then later I got into other parts of French history, then European history, and finally the history of the American Revolution.” He grinned. “I read so many books about that when I was fifteen that my English grades suddenly went from hardly passing to third best in class because all of the books about the topic in our library were in English.”

He talked with such passion about history books that Herc felt that warmth creep back into his chest that he had also felt when he’d helped Pinkie yesterday. Watching people talk about what they were passionate about was one of his favorite things to do, honestly.

“I had a roommate who was really into American Revolution stuff too,” he said. “Never could shut up about it either. He’d read all of the original documents and stuff and would keep telling me about different interpretations of the wording. I introduced him to some more modern writers, Civil Rights, Queer Rights, Women’s and Omega’s Rights, that kind of stuff.”

Lafayette’s eyes sparkled at that, and he suddenly felt absurdly proud and embarrassed at the same time.

Their main course finally came, and Herc listened to Lafayette telling him about how the American Revolution had influenced the French Revolution and how they had exchanged ideas and that yes, the wording in some of the things is very interesting, while he ate his incredibly tasty beef loin in some sort of pepper sauce and drank a red wine that seemed to melt on his tongue. Listening to Lafayette’s beautiful accent, eating the best food he had had in ages and drinking a perfect wine, smelling the candles and Lafayette’s perfume and the underlying sweetness of his own scent, with everything being bathed in indirect orange light and glittering, beautiful people and things all around them - and the most beautiful person in the room telling him about history trivia with the excitement of a child… Herc felt as if he had found a slice of paradise.

It was a horribly cheesy thought, but even though he realized this, he decided he didn’t care tonight.

After they had finished their delicious food, Lafayette asked the waiter to bring them the dessert menu. He translated every one of the options for Hercules, and after they had ordered their chocolate cake and creme brulee, respectively (Herc had never had creme brulee and he really wanted to try it), they started to talk about the scene in the Orient Express film with the little cake, and then talked about the film all through dessert. Herc found himself oddly fascinated by the translation details Lafayette had picked up while watching the English and the French version, and he honestly found it hilarious that they had changed the whole joke with the pronunciation of Hercule Poirot’s name to a joke where everybody got his name completely wrong and just called him Achille instead.

They talked until long after they had finished their desserts and enjoyed the rest of their wine, until Herc finally couldn’t quite stifle a little yawn anymore. Lafayette took that as a cue to look at his expensive-looking wrist watch.

“Ah, it is quite late,” he said, then he motioned to the waiter to bring them the bill. He put his credit card into the leather booklet with hardly a look at the bill inside, and just moments later the waiter brought it back to them and thanked them in French, which Herc just answered with a nod since he really didn’t know what he had said and so didn’t know how to respond.

He followed Lafayette out into the night. Neither of them had a coat with them, since it was still only the beginning of September and warm enough to just be in a suit jacket, but now, coming out of the warmth of that restaurant, Herc did feel a little chilly.

And then a different kind of chill ran through his body when Lafayette turned towards him and gently took his hand. Their eyes locked, and a seductive little smile appeared on the other man’s lips.

“I have enjoyed this evening a lot,” he said, in such a low rumble that Herc had to move his head a little closer to him to hear it. “It would be a shame to just let it end like this. Would you like to… ‘continue our conversation’ in my apartment?”

He would have been the biggest liar to ever walk the streets of New York if he had said he wasn’t extremely tempted to say yes. Lafayette was incredibly beautiful, even more so with his eyes just ever so slightly glassy, his cheeks flushed and his lips stained from the wine. He had to be crazy to not take the chance to sleep with this man. And he was sure that his younger self would have kicked his ass for what he did next.

He squeezed Lafayette’s hand, but then let it go.

“I am very sorry,” he said, and immediately saw Lafayette’s face fall. His stomach twisted painfully. “I enjoyed myself a lot, and I really like being around you, and I would love to repeat this kind of thing at some point - maybe at a… less exclusive restaurant so I can invite you and return the favor.” He tried to smile, but it felt fake and floppy on his lips. “But the thing is that I don’t really… do casual hook-ups anymore. I used to do that a lot, but… If it’s okay with you, I would really rather just be friends.”

Lafayette looked absolutely miserable for a moment, and something inside of Herc screamed at him to take it back and go home with him and hold him until he was smiling again, but then he schooled his face back into a casual smile and reached into his jacket pocket.

“Of course I would like to repeat this,” he said, and held his unlocked phone out to Herc. “If you would maybe save your phone number in my phone?”

Herc was slightly taken aback at that. He had absolutely not been lying; he would like to have a repeat of this evening. He had had a ton of fun talking with Lafayette, and he felt that they could make great friends. But he also hadn’t expected that Lafayette would be okay with that. He didn’t seem like the kind of guy who took a rejection lightly.

He still quickly saved his number in Lafayette’s phone, and then returned it with a smile. “Thank you very much for the evening and the food. You are seriously great company.”

Lafayette’s smile grew a little bit more sincere. “So are you.” 

They shook hands, because neither of them seemed to know what else to do, and then Lafayette got into a taxi while Herc decided to go home by foot to clear his head.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys should come and follow me on tumblr, I post a LOT of cute animals and funny stuff. Also, say hi over there or leave a comment right here <3

Lafayette was desperate. He didn’t usually like to use that kind of word, because it seemed too strong to use in any but exceptional circumstances, but as far as he was concerned, these were exceptional circumstances, and he was desperate.

He really had not expected Hercules to say no to his offer. After all, why would he? He was an attractive, young Alpha being asked for a night of no-strings-attached fun by an Omega who he most likely did find attractive, if Lafayette’s ability to notice if people were looking at him in that way hadn’t completely failed. He knew plenty of Omegas who weren’t super into one-night-stands, but all the Alphas and Betas he had tried to get into his bed had jumped at the first opportunity he gave them. Of course, sometimes he had made sure that that opportunity didn’t come before the second or third time that they went on a date or had some other more extended contact with each other, depending on the strategy he thought was going to be most successful in each individual case. But when he had thrown the bait, they had always swallowed it. (And then most of them had swallowed something else shortly after.)

But not Hercules.

Lafayette had to admit that he had totally misjudged him. The first time he had seen him, he had been surprised that somebody like Colin Hume would let an Alpha who didn’t use scent suppressors work for him, and he had been a little miffed too, because the scent had distracted him from discreetly flirting with Hume to figure out whether they’d be moving their business arrangement somewhere else later. Of course, Hercules had not smelled like anything but his deodorant when he had met him again yesterday evening, and he had behaved very professionally, just like he had on that day in the office, actually. And it had been really cute how worried he’d been about that little assistant with the pink hair. He’d always had a thing for guys who took care of others, which was likely the reason why he’d boned quite a few more Omegas than most people would have expected of an obvious Alpha-hound like him.

Of course, there were plenty of nurturing people who were not Omegas, but most of them were women, and with women he just really preferred Alphas or very bossy Betas and Omegas. And most Alpha guys he met who liked to take care of people were already dads, and while he had found himself the one or other nice single father in his day, he had a very strict personal policy against cheating.

But then there was Hercules, and the way he had put his arm around that Beta kid, with this kind of big-brother-air that was zero percent sexual and a hundred percent adorable. There was the way he looked at him after Lafayette had saved the day (he was still pretty proud that he’d been able to think so fast there), with this surprised, relieved approval before he had turned to the still sobbing kid and made sure everything was okay with him. He wanted to see more of that approval, and he wanted that arm around himself, and he wanted Hercules to look at him with the same worry when he wasn’t doing well.

And he wanted to see more of that smile.

His smile was a thing of such beauty that Lafayette felt himself melt even when he was just picturing it in his mind. When he had first seen it, in that empty alley, it had hit him like the proverbial lightning. A bright flash had run through him, making his entire body tingle with heat, and he had known at that moment that he needed this man in his life. It wasn’t just a want, not even a desire - he had always felt intensely, suddenly, and this time was no different than the first time he had seen male fashion photography, or the first time he had worn haute couture. That smile had opened a gap in his life, and he needed to fill it.

He had tried to bring Hercules into his life in the same way he had used for years to bring people he wanted to spend more time with into his life, the way that had always worked and had given him more influence in this business than he ever could know what to do with; and he had been turned down.

He had plenty of experience with rejection from his early days modelling. Hell, even now he tried to get into plenty of things that he was eventually rejected for for one reason or another; that was just a part of this business, though today at least he had so much work that he never had time to sit at home and contemplate it.

But he had always been careful enough, had been able to read people well enough, that he had hardly ever been rejected when he had tried to get into somebody’s pants. He knew that he was hot; if he hadn’t been hot, he would have never made it this far as a model, duh. But he also knew how to read nonverbal signs, and how to give people what they wanted, even if they didn’t know what that was, and it had always served him well.

He was simply not used to being rejected by somebody he wanted to sleep with. And the mix of disappointment and embarrassment had mixed with the still burning need in his chest to be close to Hercules, to hear more of his incredible, room-filling laugh, to see his eyes light up when he became animated in a conversation, to be the reason for that amazing, show-stopping smile… And now he was desperate, and he just really did not know how to deal with it.

He was lying spread out on his couch like a damsel in a period piece, one leg on the floor, his right arm over his eyes, his left stretched out above him as he contemplated the tragedy of this evening. It had been so much fun, too. Hercules was a great conversation partner, a wonderful listener, and he had a way of telling stories with that deep, slightly gruff voice of his that had kept Lafayette on the edge of his seat. Now that he wasn’t swept up in the flow of the conversation, where every topic was washed away as a new one came up and wanted their undivided attention, he wanted to find out more about him, about his family, about why they had left Ireland, if he had any fun childhood memories that he liked talking about, how he got into fashion; he wanted to know what his goals and dreams were, whether he had ever tried to read Sherlock Holmes and failed after two stories like he had, whether they liked the same actors and the same singers or if they had totally different tastes in music. He wanted to know how it felt to touch his cheeks, his hair, the back of his neck; he wanted to know how it would feel to push his lips against his, how his smiles and laugh would feel against his skin, wanted to know the patterns of his body hair and the distribution of his weight…

He wanted to know what size his nipples were, and how big his cock was.

He grabbed one of the throw pillows which he had thrown to the floor when he had dramatically flopped onto the sofa, and pushed it into his face so he could groan against it in his frustration and despair. He should be here with Hercules right now, kissing him and touching him and doing all the things he had dreamed about all day. But no, he was alone, because Hercules didn’t ‘do casual hookups anymore’. Lafayette had wanted to say that it didn’t have to be so casual, but he had bitten his tongue and just made sure that he’d get Herc’s number.

He didn’t want to say that he had fallen for Hercules or anything. He had had many, many crushes, and most of them had tempered down to simple admiration or even genuine understanding after he had managed to get his crushes into his bed. He had slept with a few of them a second time, or even a third, but it had never developed into anything he would call romantic love. Even the people who he had sex with regularly, not necessarily because he liked them a lot but because he had given it a try and found that they were very compatible, weren’t more than friends to him (if even that).

But God, he really didn’t just want to have casual sex with Hercules. But he also didn’t want to have overly serious sex with him. He wasn’t looking for a stable boyfriend; he definitely wasn’t looking to go monogamous.

What did it even mean when Hercules said he didn’t do casual hookups anymore? Did that really mean he was looking for a boyfriend? Or did he just not want to have sex at all right now? Maybe he’d been in a difficult relationship and needed some time for himself? But what better way to take care of yourself than to have some no-strings-attached fun with a guy he could obviously laugh with?

Lafayette vaguely wondered how old he was. What if he was looking to start a family? Lafayette had always wanted to have a big family some day, what with him basically growing up all alone, but he really, really wasn’t ready for that yet. And he didn’t even know if he ever really wanted to give birth.

Oh for fuck’s sake, now he had gone out on a limb, hadn’t he? How had his agony over not getting to suck Hercules’ dick turned into him thinking about whether or not he wanted to push a human being out of his pussy?

He was obviously way too deep in his head, he decided as he sat up in one fluid motion. He needed to distract himself. A few episodes of something funny on Netflix, and he’d surely feel a lot better right away.

But before he went to start his tv, he picked up his phone and opened it to take a look at Hercules’ phone number. At least he had that. And Hercules had said that he would like to be friends.

So if he couldn’t have Hercules in his bed for now, he’d at least make sure he was in his messages.


	6. Chapter 6

The first text message came less than half an hour after he’d come home.

/Hey, Hercules! This is Lafayette. Just thought I could write you so you know my number ;) Sleep well!/

Herc smiled at the message and quickly saved the number to his own phone before he wrote back.

/Thanks, saved it! I really had fun tonight + the food was seriously awesome. Sleep well too!/

The first cat meme came a day later. It was of a very dishevelled long-hair cat, with the caption “Morning got me like”. Hercules sent back a purrito pic.

Both the text messages and the cat memes came flowing in from that time on out, and Herc did his best to respond in kind. He soon had several cat meme sites bookmarked on his phone, and he would scroll through them while watching Netflix in the evening to save the best for when Lafayette would send him one of his again. The text messages they exchanged were mainly about shows or films they watched, and Herc found his daily media consumption to be more and more shaped by Lafayette’s recommendations, while Herc actually made him watch some of the old films that he liked, like Witness for the Prosecution, Singing in the Rain or Some like it Hot. Lafayette would make him aware that he was watching them in his off-time by sending him pics of his iPad (yes, taken with his phone, and Herc could only imagine how funny that had to look), while Herc went with taking photographs of his snacks and beer and captioning them with “Ready to watch XY”.

Two weeks in, he had watched two french mystery shows, one Quebec horror movie, four achingly funny French comedies and, for some reason he still didn’t quite understand, three soviet fairy tale films. In turn, Lafayette had watched all the Billy Wilder movies you could get on netflix and Prime, Last Train from Gun Hill (/A Western? Seriously?/ /Just trust me on this one/), and What We Do In The Shadows, because fuck it, that was a great movie and it was a travesty that Lafayette hadn’t seen it yet.

When he had recommended him that one, Lafayette had sent him a pic of his Halloween costume from a few years back, where he was dressed like the poshest vampire Herc had ever seen outside an Anne Rice movie. The way he grinned with those high-end fake fangs had made Herc’s resolve crumble for the first time since the date and he had ended up staring at it while he was fisting his cock and panting like a man who just ran up twenty flights of stairs.

Honestly, it was a little like date nights, the feeling of excitement he got at the end of his work day when he got to go home and watch another movie Lafayette had recommended. He was seeing the same images that Lafayette had seen and enjoyed, the same stories that had gotten stuck in his head. It was an interesting, unusual way to get to know another person, and Herc enjoyed those evenings a lot. Especially because after a while, he would start to live-text his viewing experience to Lafayette, and then Lafayette would start doing the same thing. It would have been even better if they had been able to be in the same room with each other, but inviting somebody who had invited him home in “that way” into his own home now seemed to Herc like misunderstandings were bound to happen. Mixed signals and everything. And they hadn’t been able to go out for food or even coffee either, since Herc still worked regular 8 to 4 shifts and Lafayette’s job usually didn’t let him be at home before ten. 

Herc definitely got a lot less sleep because of that, since he would usually plan to get to bed at 12 but still wait for Lafayette’s texts till it was well past one. He might not be the college dude he used to be anymore, who had been able to just pull two all-nighters after one another and still managed if not to ace his exams, then at least to write very solid Bs consistently, but he still managed to get used to this new rhythm pretty quickly, with only some few yawns in the morning. Of course, those yawns were reason enough for Michaela to tease him about what he was doing all night, whether he had a new squeeze at home keeping him up. Then, of course, Herc would tease her about using a word like ‘squeeze’ in two thousand and seventeen, before Michaela would inform him that she used that word because it was cute as fuck and also included ace people, thank you very much. Herc then asked how the hell an ace boyfriend would keep him up all night. Michaela just responded with “Comic book trivia”. And yeah, Herc definitely had had boyfriends like that, even though he wasn’t sure any of them had been ace.

That evening, Herc started to type out a message to Lafayette about how this funny thing had happened, that his colleague had thought he was having a new boyfriend because he had been up so late, while he really was just watching movies he was recommending.

But then he deleted that message, because again, mixed fucking signals.

At some point he had been tempted to ask Lafayette for his instagram or twitter handle. He didn’t have instagram on his phone, but he could download it, and he still checked twitter every once in a while for new political hot takes and - especially - cute animal pics. Also for fashion-related purposes, which was the same reason why he had started a tumblr blog about five years ago (which he had then abandoned two years later).

But again he had decided that that wasn’t a very great idea. He didn’t want to sound like he wanted to start stalking Lafayette. And also, just the thought of having so much of information on him at his fingertips - what he liked, what he didn’t like, his political opinions, his selfies - felt overwhelming. He didn’t know how he’d react if he didn’t just obsess over the next text message he’d get, but over the next tweet or instagram post as well. He also tried to generally not look at gossip articles or posts about him on the internet. It just felt like something friends shouldn’t do.

Still, he waited for every ring of his phone. He had put in a different text signal for Lafayette, after he had been disappointed the first few times he’d gotten ad messages or work texts and had thought they were texts from Lafayette. He had made his own basic Pavlov experiment, with himself in the role of the dog and the ring tone being his bell.

“So you’re sure you’re not seeing somebody right now?” Michaela asked one day during a short coffee break as Herc was looking at another text from Lafayette, a black and white cat that had gotten in a coat hanger and was captioned “Human. I request your assistance.”

He looked up at his coworker, who was nursing her rainbow unicorn mug and looking at him with searching eyes.

“I told you I’m not. But don’t you even think about trying to set me up again…”

She had actually slipped him the name of a guy last week and told him to add him on facebook, because he was ‘totally the mom of your future kids’. Herc had looked her in the eye and had dropped the slip of paper into the bin next to their table. They had had this conversation many, many times.

“Naah,” she said, taking a long sip of her tea. “The way you’re looking at your phone, I seriously doubt that I’ll need to try that in a while.”

Herc frowned at that. “How am I looking at my phone?”

She grinned over the edge of her cup. “Like as if your mom sending you pictures of your first dog and seeing your favorite dessert pic on twitter had had a baby and that baby was filmed taking its first steps and you just got the video of that sent to you.”

“That literally does not make any sense,” he answered.

“You look like an idiot in love, is how you look at your phone.” Michaela raised her eyebrows at him, then she looked back at her own phone which had just vibrated on the kitchen counter. She took it and opened it, and then she squeaked out a laugh.

“Speaking of idiots in love…” she sing-songed, then held her phone out towards Herc so he could read what was on the screen.

Some article from a gossip site or something was open on it, and Michaela had scrolled down to a picture under a headline that Herc didn’t care to read.  
.  
Because the picture showed Colin and Lafayette, dressed to the nines with some fancy cocktails in their hands. Kissing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don‘t know if I‘m the only one who sees the notes beneath this one, but this chapter made so much trouble when I tried to upload it that I‘m just going to ignore it :III


	7. Chapter 7

“When’s that from?” he asked, trying to keep his voice as neutral and uninterested as possible.

“The article is from today, and it says the pic was taken… Wait…” She scrolled down. “Saturday.”

Three days ago. He had known that Lafayette had had to go to some kind of function, because he had messaged him to tell him that he might be slow replying tonight, but that he was still really looking forward to hear his opinion on Serial (Bad) Weddings. He then had sent him a message just ten seconds later complaining that Serial (Bad) Weddings was a really bad translation, and what in the world had they been thinking with that title.

He wondered what in the world Lafayette had been thinking, texting him while he was on his way to a function where he would end up kissing Colin.

And it wasn’t just a harmless kiss, the kind of kisses you’d expect a foreigner to give to people. It was full on, open-mouthed making out, with Lafayette’s arm around Colin’s neck and Colin’s back to the wall.

Michaela’s giggle brought his attention back to her. “I wonder if Colin talks as much as he does after sex too. Or do you think the Marquis is good enough to totally wear him out?” She scrolled farther down on her phone. “He does look like somebody who knows what he’s doing, doesn’t he?”

“I’m honestly not all that interested in Colin’s love life,” Herc murmured and took the last sip of his coffee.

“Fair enough,” Michaela said with a grin. “But if he’s happy, that’s always good for us, right? He makes far more interesting shit when he’s getting some good tail. Remember when he was dating that Alpha actor a while ago? That one got us that whole crazy Electric Butterfly themed spring collection.”

Herc found himself wondering what kind of stuff Lafayette would inspire him to. He turned around to put his cup in the dishwasher, then he walked past Michaela towards the door.

“Our ten minutes are up,” he said, a little more gruff than he would have liked, and walked back into the atelier.

Michaela didn’t mention the whole thing anymore after that, but she did give him strange looks. Of course, he had to admit that he was treating his work with a lot more force than usually. He even pricked his finger on a pin late in the day. As he looked at the tiny drop of blood forming on his skin, he thought back to the night of the show, and he wondered whether he would have noticed any flirting or anything if he had paid the interactions between Colin and Lafayette any more attention. He wondered how long this had been going on. Had Lafayette already thought about this on their date? What if he had called Colin afterwards, to get a replacement after Herc had rejected his invitation to his apartment?

He shook his head and sucked his finger clean. It was quarter to four. He’d done at least half an hour of overtime every day the last few days, and he wasn’t in the middle of anything right now.

“I’m going to go home already,” he told Michaela. “If I start sewing this, I’ll stay an hour late again.”

“Alright,” his table mate said, though she was still looking at him suspiciously. “Have a nice evening.”

“You too.” He took his phone and his jacket and made his way out of the atelier.

When he was in the elevator, he gave his head a hard shake, as if that could un-lodge the image that had burned itself into his mind. He took a deep breath. Jealousy was burning in his chest. He told himself that there was no reason for him to be jealous, none at all. He had told Lafayette that he wasn’t interested in him in any sexual way, and that he wanted to be friends. It was literally none of his business if he decided to have a fling with his boss two weeks later. And thinking that he might already have had that up his sleeve during their date was ridiculous. They would have found out. There was just no way Colin would have gone two weeks without telling Isobel that he was seeing somebody new, and Isobel would have gotten the name of that somebody within hours after that. And then the whole atelier would have known. And soon after, the entire label, and the accounting office on the floor below them as well.

No, this had to be new. And it was none of Herc’s business. Absolutely none of his business.

But he was still mad about it. He felt the jealousy sit right under his sternum, radiating up into his jaw like a bad case of heartburn. He walked out of the office building and down the way he took every day, letting his muscle memory bring him home while he tried to think about this. Because obviously there were some things he had to think about.

First of all: He knew that he was attracted to Lafayette. And he liked him a lot, too, as a person, as the guy who sent him messages and who was obsessed with funny cats and who had sent him a crying emoticon after he’d watched Last Train from Gun Hill. He considered him a friend. But he didn’t want a relationship with him.

Wait, that was wrong. He hadn’t actually thought about having a relationship with Lafayette. He hadn’t allowed himself to think about it, because he was sure that Lafayette would just have liked to have him as a one night stand, or a fuck buddy, at most. He just couldn’t imagine that flirty, open Lafayette, with his affairs plastering the news stands, would be interested in having an actual relationship with him, of all people. He still couldn’t imagine it. So being his friend was actually a better option there. He still got to get to know him, still got to talk with him, without meaningless sex complicating that whole issue.

Because the reason he had given up meaningless sex was just that; it had made everything more complicated.

Herc had needed a long time to learn this about himself, but he just couldn’t keep sex and emotions separated. He had fallen in love dozens of times during his college days, and he had had sex with dozens of men, and then they had left in the morning, sometimes without even giving him their phone number, and his heart had been broken dozens of times.

In the beginning he had thought that it was something about wounded pride. That he suspected he might be bad in bed. But honestly, he wasn’t; when he had met those same men at the same bars later, many of them had come back home with him, or had invited him back to their place. But again, very few of them had tried to keep anything going. There had been a few who had, of course, and he had had over half a dozen boyfriends during his college days, some of which had only stuck around for a few weeks, some of which he had spent months or in one case even a year with. And none of them had ever complained about his performance.

But he had definitely been happier when he had had a boyfriend than when he just had flings. It was just a completely different feeling, sleeping with somebody you knew was in it for the long haul. With somebody who knew that you had an exam in a week and who was actively interested in you passing that exam. With somebody with whom you had cooked something resembling a proper dinner just two hours earlier.

He hadn’t wanted to sleep with Lafayette because he hadn’t wanted to get his heart broken like that again, no matter how stupid that sounded. He was a thirty-year-old man, an Alpha, he should be over that kind of teen-flick rhethoric. But it was just the truth. If he stayed friends with Lafayette instead of falling into bed with him, he had thought he’d stay around longer. He could get to know him, and then they could just be buddies, part of each other’s lives. But if he wanted to be part of Lafayette’s life, without bringing sex and the inevitable separation after that into it, he would have to accept that Lafayette’s life would include other people as well. People who he kissed in public. People who would sleep with him.

He knew all of that. But still he was upset. He also knew that he was being incredibly unfair towards Lafayette here, but knowing that didn’t stop the feeling of jealousy sitting in his chest like a bad cough that wouldn’t come out.

So what was he going to do?

There really wasn’t a lot to do about it, he thought as he reached his apartment building and walked towards the elevator. He had rejected Lafayette, and he still didn’t think that it would be a good idea to sleep with him. If that even was still an option. Lafayette was likely not looking for a long-term relationship, and if he was, he definitely wouldn’t be interested in somebody like Herc. So the only options he had were to either completely cut off his contact with Lafayette, which he really did not want to do, or stay his friend and just accept that he was having sex with other people, because again, that was absolutely none of his business.

So he would try and keep going as he had the last two weeks, and just try and either ignore the jealousy he was feeling when he was too busy to acknowledge it, or find some way to work through those feelings. There had to be some articles about this sort of thing online, right? But what was he even going to put into google? “Jealous of friend’s sex life even though I don’t want to sleep with him”? He definitely wouldn’t start a thread on some question site himself.

Maybe there was some kind of book he could read. Some self-help stuff.

And if all of that didn’t work out, he could always call Hugh, invite him over to some beers and then just get it off his chest. It wasn’t unlikely that just putting it into words would help. And Hugh wouldn’t judge him, at least not too harshly. He might tease him about it in a while, but first he would try to help him. At least he hoped so.

But first, he’d scour the internet for some advice. Even though he knew it was a viable option, telling his little brother that he was broken up over a guy he had rejected himself wasn’t his idea of a fun evening.

Then again, spending all evening looking for advice on how to deal with being jealous of his boss because he was making out with a guy whom he had told that he just wanted to be friends wasn’t exactly his idea of a fun evening, either.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi guys! This week, you are getting two chapters instead of one, because I‘m nice like that :) Also, thank you for your comments <3

/are you doing anything saturday night? I’ve got tickets for a new musical on broadway if you’re interested?/

He got Lafayette’s text two days after he had found out about him and Colin. He hadn’t called Hugh yet, since he had felt like he would be kind of okay the day after he’d heard those news, but by Thursday, he was still working through his issue. These things couldn’t be rushed, he guessed. But now he had to figure out if he wanted to go and see a Broadway show with a guy who he really liked as a friend, but who also gave him really unwanted feelings whenever Herc thought about him kissing somebody else… On the one hand, it definitely wouldn’t be bad for him to take a little more time to get over whatever the fuck was wrong with him, but on the other hand… free Broadway tickets.

/its not a disney musical is it?/ he texted back after contemplating for more than ten minutes.

/a) Disney musicals are awesome and b) no it isn’t, it’s the Caribbean one/

Damn, Herc really wanted to see that one. He hesitated for a few more moments, then he bit the bullet.

/sounds great! when + where?/

/I’ve got an afternoon thing before, so I think it would be ideal if I picked you up around 7? The show starts at 8:30. I just need your home address./

Herc sent his details off to Lafayette, then he put his phone down and sighed at the dress-form he was currently wrapping in green silk.

It had been ages since he’d been to a show, and then it had been an off-off-off Broadway thing where a friend of his had had a part. What in the world did you even wear to a Broadway show? He couldn’t wear the suit he had worn when he’d met Lafayette. First of all, he didn’t want Lafayette to think that he only had one set of going-out clothes, even though he knew that was kind of ridiculous; and second, he just didn’t feel like brown was an appropriate color for the theater. And his black suit? No way. This was neither a funeral nor a wedding, after all.

So he basically had the choice between his charcoal suit, or some mix-and-match involving the royal blue blazer. But since this was a theater evening, again, and not a cocktail party, he really thought the charcoal would be more suitable.

But he didn’t really have any shirt that went well with that suit, except his two standard white shirts and a very light rose one which was alright with it, though he preferred to wear it to the brown suit; and honestly, he didn’t want to wear a white shirt, or the rose one, while he was out with Lafayette. It was a stupid thought, again, but really, he wanted to stand out a little. At least a little. Not that he would ever be noticed next to Lafayette, but he wanted Lafayette to notice him.

Lord, this jealousy thing was going to drive him nuts. Also, broke. Because he was definitely going to get himself a dress shirt in some strong color that would fit with his charcoal suit.

****

On Saturday morning, he went out to get himself that dress shirt. He had decided to either go with red or with green, and he had double-checked his bank account so he knew exactly how much spending money he had. It was exciting, in a way, buying something for somebody he liked, even though he was still very vehemently opposed to the thought of trying to start anything with Lafayette. He did, however, really like the thought of looking like somebody a top model could potentially want to date.

There were three high-end shops he liked to go to, and he was lucky at his very first try. The owner of the boutique was personally present when he entered; she was an acquaintance of his who he sometimes met at parties and who had subsequently become his go-to when he needed expensive clothing. He explained the situation to her; the abridged version, of course. That he had a date on Broadway (who even knew at this point if he was lying to her, or if he was actually lying to himself and telling her the truth in some mix-up that would have Freud sucking his cigar harder), and that he wanted to wear the charcoal suit he had bought from her a whole while ago (he had taken photos to make sure the shirt matched), and that he wanted something more exciting than some rosé to go with that. She nodded so enthusiastically that he was afraid her bright pink wig might come off, and then ushered him into the fitting room before she was off again and back just a second later with four shirts she thought would work for this occasion.

He was horrified by the bright green she’d brought him, so that went out of the window right away (“I’m already Irish enough without advertising it to everybody who sees me”), and the bordeaux was just plain not what he was looking for. It was a nice enough shirt, and he would have liked it in another context, especially if he had been the type to wear beige or light grey suits (which he was not). The next red was just too… orange, and the green was a nice emerald color that would have gone great with the brown suit, but he just couldn’t see it with the charcoal.

The boutique owner thought for a second, then she ran out again and came back with two new shirts. The first one was just at the edge between teal and turquoise, and he really liked the shiny, smooth fabric, but then he took a closer look at the new red one, which was of an exquisite scarlet - venetian, if he was not completely wrong - and he knew which of them he had to take.

He was quickly fitted for the shirt, which fit him nearly perfectly except that the shoulders were just the tiniest bit too wide.

“That won’t be a problem at all,” said the owner as she pinned down the shoulders. “When do you need it, love?”

Hercules smiled through his teeth as he said: “Tonight…”

An exasperated sigh came from the older woman, and she shook her head. “It’s Saturday, Hercy. You couldn’t have gotten around to shopping a tick earlier?”

Herc tried to make his smile as apologetic and sweet as he could. “I only got the invite on Thursday, and I did overtime yesterday… Do you think you could maybe work some magic for me?”

The woman looked at him with a critical eye, one arm akimbo, her pin cushion in her other hand. “Only if you tell me who you are going on a date with.”

He winced at that. It wasn’t really a date, and he really shouldn’t be telling her, because what if it got out? He didn’t really think that he’d ever end up in some gossip magazine, or on one of those incredibly boring twitter accounts that just retweeted each other ad infinitum, but he also really didn’t want to risk it. So he just took a deep breath and leaned closer to the boutique owner.

“I really can’t tell you his name,” he whispered, “but… he’s one of Hume’s current top talent.”

That seemed to satisfy the woman’s curiosity; her eyes were shining when she pulled away from him a little and gave him a playful tap on the arm. “You dog! Look at you cutting yourself a slice of celebrity! Of course you want to look great for that, I can totally understand that, sweetheart. But since you’re not telling me the name,” she raised her eyebrows, “you do owe me a favor now, alright?”

Herc grinned. “Alright.”

He kissed her on the cheek. “So when can I get it?”

“It’ll be done around three. Norma upstairs can postpone the rest of her work.”

“Tell Norma thank you from me too, then,” he said as they walked to the register and he paid his purchase. “I’ll be back at three, then.”

As he walked out of the boutique, with five hours to spare until his shirt was done, he decided that he’d splurge today and go to a barber. Get his hair done, get a proper shave. If he was already paying several hundred dollar for a shirt, he should better try and pull off the whole look.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Writing in Lafayette‘s voice is sooo much fun! I hope you‘ll have fun with this chapter too :)

“Does this car have any coca in the fridge?” Lafayette asked Gordon, his publicist, as he leaned back and rubbed his eyes, glad that he’d decided against putting eyeliner on earlier.

“If you keep calling coke coca, you will keep getting strange looks and hot chocolate at restaurants, you know that,” Gordon murmured as he leaned down and opened the minibar at the side of the limousine. He pulled out a bottle of coke zero and handed it to Lafayette.

Lafayette looked down at the bottle and made a face. “I don’t take it that there is any sweets in there as well?”

“I’ve told you eighty times now, it doesn’t matter if the caffeine has sugar or not. Drink your coke.”

Lafayette sighed dramatically. “So very rude for somebody who gets paid by me…” he muttered, then he opened the bottle and took a sip. Gordon kept saying that coke zero and coke tasted the same, but Gordon also said that all gummy bear colors tasted the same, so obviously his publicist didn’t have any tastebuds in the first place.

He should have done the diva thing and demanded that the limousine they’d made available to him had the kind of cola he liked. Also gummy bears. Because now he really wanted gummy bears.

The car stopped when his bottle was only half-empty, and he looked up to see that they were standing in front of a brown brick-looking high-rise. This had to be Hercules’ address.

He quickly shot him a text message, the second one he had written to him in his car. In the first, he had told him that he was on his way and would text him to come down once they were there. That was what the second message was about now.

They didn’t have to wait long before Hercules came out of the door of his building. Even through the tinted limousine windows, Lafayette could see that he looked absolutely delicious in a dark-grey suit, with a popping red shirt that contrasted beautifully against his dark skin and his grey jacket.

Lafayette opened the door for him.

“Hey, Hercules!” he called, a grin on his face. “I am so happy to see you again!”

Hercules bent down to climb into the car and sat down on the bench opposite of Lafayette. He had been smiling when he saw him, but when he noticed Gordon, his smile faded and a confused frown appeared on his forehead.

“Oh, do not mind Gordon. We are dropping him off before we go to the Broadway. He lives nearby, so I was like, I can take you home, it is no problem, right? Oh, also, this is my publicist, Gordon, and Gordon, this is my friend Hercules.”

Gordon held out his hand towards Hercules. “Gordon Anstruther, PR representative.” He put emphasis on the last words, and Lafayette just rolled his eyes and murmured ‘publicist’ under his breath.

“Hercules Mulligan, couturier with Hume’s.” Hercules took the hand with a little smile and gave him what looked like a slightly over-dominant hand press. Lafayette should have known that even sweet guys like Hercules got a bit primitive when they were in a confined space with another Alpha and an eligible Omega. It made him smile a little.

The car started again, and Lafayette took another sip of his cola.

“You have to excuse me, Hercules, but I suddenly got very fatigued at the gathering we were at just before. I guess I didn’t eat enough for lunch…” he said, lifting his bottle a little. “Would you like to drink anything yourself?”

Hercules shook his head, and there was that frown again, that little adorable crease between his thick, but well-groomed eyebrows, and that longer, but shallower crease along his forehead. “Are you sure you are alright to go to the theater then?”

Lafayette snorted and made a dismissive motion with his hand. “Oh, do not worry. It is already a lot better, and once the show starts, I will completely forget about it.” It was a bit of a lie that he was feeling better; the brain fog had stopped, but now he was feeling just the tiniest bit nauseous… He kept sipping his coke, hoping that that would go away soon enough. And chances were, they’d sell salty snacks at the theater. He just needed to regulate his sodium levels, or some such thing.

“Also, I would never have missed seeing you again. It has been far too long, hasn’t it?” He grinned at Hercules, who smiled back nearly shyly. Now, that was interesting.

“Yeah, two weeks or something I guess?” Hercules answered. 

“By the way, your outfit is very nice. Very classy, with just a bit of adventure.” He smiled as he lifted his bottle to his lips again. “Fits you very well.”

Hercules snorted. “Yeah, that’s a way to describe it, I guess.” But he did look like he had enjoyed the compliment; he sat up a little straighter, and Lafayette could swear that he was puffing his chest out a little.

It was so sweet that he wanted to take a bite out of him to go with his cola.

The atmosphere was still strained, though, and Lafayette was nearly one hundred percent sure that it was because Gordon was still in the car. He counted down the seconds until they were at his apartment, and then, when he finally climbed out of the limousine, waved after him enthusiastically.

When the door closed behind him, he let out a deep sigh.

“I’m very sorry about that,” he said. “Gordon is such a joy sucker. Good brain for publicity stuff, but mon dieu.” He rolled his eyes, then he smiled at Hercules again and leaned forward to be a bit closer to him.

“So, how has work been treating you?” They had been texting a lot, but most of that had been about movies. He didn’t actually know how Hercules had been doing the last two weeks, he only knew that he’d spend a very big portion of his evenings on the couch in front of the TV.

For some reason, Hercules flinched a little at that innocuous question. Lafayette found himself frowning.

“Perfectly fine, really,” Hercules answered, even though there was this little tone in his voice that told Lafayette that something was bothering him. He was very bad at lying, this Hercules Mulligan.

Hercules tried on a smile for size. “It’s still pretty stressful since we’re getting the orders ready that came in after the fashion show, but there is not as much time pressure as before the show. So I only pull overtime every second day instead of everyday.”

“Well, I do hope you’re getting paid for that,” Lafayette said seriously. “Are you in any union? You never know with the abysmal labor rights here in the US.”

“Oh, yeah, I’m in a union,” said Hercules, a grin appearing on his face. “You know, that’s the most stereotypical French thing you’ve said to me yet.”

Lafayette raised his eyebrows, then he laughed. “I really don’t know if I can believe that, but I’ve said so many things to you the last time I saw you that I really can’t remember every detail. So I’ll have to trust you on that.” He grinned at him. “But yes, we French people do love our unions. Even jet hoppers like me who never stay in France for more than a few weeks at a time.”

Hercules snorted again. “I’m pretty sure the term you’re looking for is jet setter?”

Lafayette leaned back on the bench and crossed his arms in front of his chest, then he raised his eyebrows again in mock indignation. “No, I am quite sure that I wanted to say jet hoppers. Like, people who hop from airport to airport, like little neck-pillow wearing bunnies.”

“Of course that’s what you wanted to say,” Hercules said, leaning forward now with his elbows on his knees and with that incredible smile of his lighting up the entire interior of the limousine. Lafayette felt his heart melt and heat spread in his stomach at the sight.

Except that that heat felt strangely familiar.

He felt the blood drain out of his face when the realisation hit him. The fatigue, the nausea - oh god no, please no. He couldn’t be getting his heat tonight, not when he was with Hercules who had made it very clear that he did not want to fuck and who Lafayette still really wanted to keep being friends with.

Hercules had noticed the change in his face. Of course he had noticed. There was that frown again, but this time Lafayette didn’t have time to enjoy it.

“Is… Everything okay?” Hercules asked, leaning forward a little more, coming so close that Lafayette was sure he had to catch a whiff of what was happening to him.

But no, he reminded himself; the first symptoms didn’t give him that typical heat smell. Otherwise, Gordon would have said something. It would be an hour at least until Hercules would notice anything.

An hour to find some way to get out of this mess.

Lafayette forced himself to smile, and with his experience as a model he was quite sure that his smile would look genuine enough.

“Yes, of course everything is alright,” he said. “I only just remembered, uhm, that I had a meeting with a photographer on Monday and I totally forgot to put it into my calendar?”

Not that he was keeping his own calendar, that was his agency’s job, but maybe Hercules wouldn’t know that. It was just as likely that he kept a parallel calendar to his agency’s, after all.

To make the lie as believable as possible he took his phone out of his pocket and even went as far as to go into the calendar app and type something in there before he locked his phone again and put it away.

“So, now I don’t have to worry about that,” he said with a smile, and took the last sip of cola before he put the empty bottle into a little waste bin next to the refrigerator.

“Good,” Hercules said, still smiling. “So you’ve been good too?”

The actually rather innocuous wording made something naughty surface in Lafayette’s mind, but he pushed it away as fast as he could. Getting hot and bothered might bring his heat on even faster.

“Oh, yes, I’ve been wonderful,” he answered, racking his brain to find something he could talk about to make sure there were no awkward pauses. “There were some pretty exciting developments in the last two weeks.” He’d gotten some new contracts for about six shoots in the next few weeks, and there was a deal with a major wine company on the horizon. But before he could start talking about how he was looking forward to being the face of some expensive Californian wine, he suddenly noticed that something in Hercules’ face had changed. The smile had faded, and for a second he had looked at him with something that looked nearly like anger, before he had turned his eyes away from him and was now studying the fridge.

Lafayette frowned. “Did I say something wrong?”

But Hercules still didn’t look at him, though he was moving his face towards him so it would look as if he wasn’t avoiding his eyes. “No, no, of course not.”

And there it was - awkward silence. Wonderful. Lafayette had no idea what was going on, but he also didn’t feel like he could just go back to the topic. What topic had they been even on right then?

He opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out except a strange strangled sound that he immediately covered up with a cough, or at least tried to.

There was another stretch of silence, and then Lafayette once again tried to say something, anything, but this time Hercules was faster.

“I’m sorry,” he said, and his eyes glanced up at Lafayette’s face just for a moment. “I’m behaving like an asshole here. It’s just, I’ve seen some pictures of you and Colin. Mr. Hume, I mean. And it just… I don’t know, I feel weird about it.”

“Weird?” Lafayette asked, not quite understanding what he was getting at. Yes, he had had some fun with Hume in the last weeks, but what did that have to do with Hercules? Oh, wait. “Because he is your boss, or because I’m a model for his label?”

Hercules was wringing his hands now, something he hadn’t yet seen him doing. Was that a nervous gesture? He wondered if he always did it, if he was aware that he did it.

“I guess both?” he answered, then he shook his head. “Though it could also be none of those things.”

Lafayette slowly shook his head as well. “Yeah, so, that doesn’t make any sense.”

Hercules groaned and ran his hands, both of them, over his face. “Yeah, I’m sorry. I’m making a scene here.”

Lafayette couldn’t help the little twitch of his lips at that. “If this is a scene, your entire social circle must have the zen of buddhist monks. I guess they do say that sewing is a meditative activity…”

Hercules lowered his hands and glowered at Lafayette for a second. Which instantly made the heat in his middle flare up again. Fucking shit. That look in a different context, and Hercules could have anything from him.

But sadly that context was very different from the one they were currently in, and even the possibility of it seemed to slip farther and farther away.

“So, we have established that maybe those two things are the reason you are upset, or maybe they are not,” said Lafayette. The car had stopped now; apparently they were at the theater. “Is this the kind of upset that goes away after a while, or the kind of upset you need to talk about?”

That made at least a tiny smile appear on Hercules’ lips, but it was very short-lived. “It’s the kind of upset that’s really my own problem, and I don’t want to… burden you with it.”

Lafayette nodded very slowly. “Okay, I understand that. And if you do not want to let me know what is bothering you, then that is also okay.” He looked up at him again, frowning. “As long as you will let me know if I do something that hurts you, yes?”

Hercules let out a snort at that. “Good lord, you sound like I’m your spouse or something,” he said, but then his face fell again, just for a second, before he could school it back into that slight, nearly polite smile.

There was a sharp pull in Lafayette’s chest. He wondered at that. He should find that comment ridiculous, not touching.

“Let’s get into the theater, anyway. We don’t want to be late,” he finally said, and then went ahead to climb out of the car. While Hercules exited, he knocked on the driver’s window and told him that he wouldn’t need him anymore. They’d take a taxi back.

“So, the thing with Colin,” Hercules started as they walked towards the entrance to the theater, where very well-dressed people were already clustering. “Is that serious?”

Lafayette was a little surprised that he would bring it up again, but he just smiled a little. “If I wanted something serious, there is somebody other than Hume I would have tried to catch.”

Their eyes met for just a moment, and then Hercules looked away, and they entered the theater.


	10. Chapter 10

This rather strange and honestly awkward conversation had taken Lafayette’s mind off his own problems for a while, but once he had given his coat to the cloakroom people - Hercules wasn’t wearing one, which was crazy in Lafayette’s opinion since it was the end of September - and had gotten themselves two flutes of sparkly wine, the liquid feeling in his belly came back to his attention with a vengeance. He could feel his cheeks turning red as he felt the first drops of slick gathering between his legs, but when Hercules asked him whether anything was wrong (something they seemed to keep asking each other this evening), he just said it must be the warmth in the theater, or maybe the alcohol was getting to him. Since he was holding a flute of prosecco, that was of course, extremely unlikely; but Hercules just accepted that weak excuse with a comment about how it really was pretty warm in the foyer.

The sound of the bell announcing that the show was about to start couldn’t come soon enough for Lafayette. At least in the darkness of the theater Hercules wouldn’t notice how red his face was getting, and maybe the stuff going on on stage would distract him enough that he wouldn’t notice that his whole body was growing warmer. He just hoped his pheromones wouldn’t start changing until they were out of the theater again. Sometimes his heat-smell needed a while to come on, and he had only just started feeling it in the car. There was a good chance that he’d get out of this without giving the whole game away by stinking up an entire house with his heat-scent.

He just hoped Hercules wasn’t one of those people with crazy good noses. Because while he could hope that the scent wouldn’t start up anytime soon, he was painfully aware of the liquid dripping from his cunt into his underpants.

He just hoped he wouldn’t leave any stains on the theater seat.

They made their way through throngs of people to their seats, fourth row center. They were sitting a couple seats in, and some of the guests farther at the side had already arrived, so there was a lot of shuffling and “Excuse me”s involved in getting them where they wanted to go. Hercules seemed to have quite a bit of difficulty with this, what with him being as big a guy as he was, but eventually they sat in their chairs, their arms touching a little, and they could relax.

Lafayette let out a little sigh as the lights went out and the show began. About half a minute into the opening number he was completely immersed in the music, and he hardly noticed how the heat in his belly was getting more intense.

Until about forty minutes into the show, when he suddenly became aware of his left-side neighbor shooting him nasty looks. For a second he didn’t know what that was about, until Hercules started to squirm a little next to him. Lafayette looked over to him with a frown and noticed that he had leaned away from him slightly, bracing his elbow on the armrest to his other side and holding his hand in such a way that it covered his nose in an almost casual way. Their eyes met for a second, and burning heat shot into Lafayette’s cheeks again.

Now he could smell it too. And also feel it.

His heat had kicked in completely.

How the hell had this happened so quickly? He stood up and carefully made his way out of the row, getting a lot more nasty looks, as well as some very interested glances. He hurried out of the house and back out into the foyer, and then immediately made for the men’s room before one of the attendants could ask him if anything was wrong.

His lower body was on fire by now, and the heat was pushing up into his chest insistently. His face was burning, and his breath was coming faster both with the rush he’d been in to get to the restroom and because of more basic biological functions.

He turned the faucet on and splashed his face with cold water, then he held one of his hands again under the faucet again and ran it over the back of his neck, definitely getting his shirt wet. Then he leaned on the sink and looked at himself in the mirror. His lips were red, his cheeks and his ears were flushed, and his pupils were dilated despite the bright light in the restroom. His chest was heaving, and yeah, he could smell the heat coming off him, like roses after a hot summer day, with a whiff of dark berries.

“So I guess you’re not on heat blockers either then?”

Lafayette whipped around to see Hercules stand inside the restroom door, which was at right angles with the mirrors so he hadn’t seen him come in. He bit the inside of his lower lip and nodded.

“I really did not think it would come today,” he said. “But it’s irregular, sometimes…”

His body had picked up on the presence of an Alpha in the room, and a gush of liquid soaked his underwear, making the heat in his face even worse. “And it definitely doesn’t come on this fast usually…”

He turned to the sink again and washed his face once more, while Hercules kept standing next to the door, hesitating.

Finally he cleared his throat, and Lafayette saw him shifting his weight from one leg to the other. Was that a bulge between his legs? He wouldn’t fault him for it, really. It was nearly impossible for an Alpha to be in the same room as an Omega in heat without at least being a little affected. Though now Lafayette felt even more horrible; he knew that Hercules did not want to have sex with him, so him getting hot and bothered because of Lafayette was as if Lafayette was forcing himself on him, in a way.

“Should I call Colin?” Hercules finally said.

That comment made Lafayette frown again, and he shook his head, slightly confused.

“Why would you call Colin?” he asked. He really had no idea what Hercules was getting at.

“I mean, since the two of you are, well,” he made a gesture with one of his huge hands, and another gush of slick made Lafayette’s cheeks burn even hotter. “I thought you would maybe want him to take care of you…?”

Lafayette needed a second to understand this - he had never been a very fast thinker once his heat had started - but then he understood.

“What, Colin? Oh no, no way. That is just casual - I’ve got a few guys I can call, who I’ve known for a while and who help me with this stuff… I’ll just call an Omega taxi…”

His hand was still wet, and he sloppily wiped it on his suit jacket instead of walking over to the hand dryer before he took out his phone and fired off a text.

“But you should go back and watch the rest of the play,” he said as he pressed send and looked up at Hercules again.

He nearly dropped his phone when he saw the look on Hercules’ face.

Now, in this kind of situation there were quite a few different facial expressions he could expect. Disgust, to be honest. Arousal, desire, need, absolutely. Curiosity, yeah.

But sadness? That was a first.

And Hercules looked absolutely devastated.

Lafayette pocketed his phone and walked towards Hercules.

“Herc, is anything wrong?”, he asked, real concern making his voice shake ever so slightly.

And this time he didn’t wave him off like he had done before.

“I don’t think we can be friends,” Hercules said, his voice breaking suspiciously at the end there. He cleared his throat and schooled his face into something cool and neutral, but the desperation was still there in his eyes. “I’m sorry.”

He turned to leave the bathroom, but Lafayette was faster. He grabbed Hercules’ shoulder and made him turn around.

“What? Why in the world not?” His fingers clutched Hercules’ arm hard enough that he knew it had to hurt, somewhere in the back of his conscience. “Is it because I don’t use blockers?” He frowned. “Or because I sleep around?”

Hercules looked at him with those dark, sad eyes. He was a little shorter than Lafayette, and for the first time since they had met in Colin Hume’s office Lafayette noticed that he was looking down at him.

“It’s none of those things. It’s really not your fault, Lafayette. It’s my fault.”

Lafayette snorted. “‘It’s not you’, it’s me’? Isn’t that usually a way to break up with somebody you were together with in the first place?”

Hercules looked away and tried to get out of Lafayette’s grasp, but Lafayette just doubled up and put his other hand on Hercules’ arm too. His heat-heightened senses could smell Hercules’ Alpha scent even through his blockers. And he knew that Hercules was smelling him too, because he was squirming now, and the bulge in his pants was as undeniable as the wet spot between Lafayette’s thighs.

Finally Hercules looked at him again, and it nearly broke Lafayette’s heart.

“I can’t be friends with you because I feel jealous as hell about every guy who gets to be with you,” he finally said, his voice so low that Lafayette could hardly understand him.

He needed a second to process what Hercules had said, but when he did, he let go of him immediately.

“Oh,” he said. Just that, because he had no idea what else to say.

“Yeah…” Hercules was looking at a spot somewhere behind Lafayette’s head. “You’re an awesome person, but I want to be with you too much to… to be around you and to know that other people get to be with you. And I don’t want to have the kind of relationship you have with other people. I don’t want to be just ‘some guy’ you can call…” He swallowed, and Lafayette watched the up-and-down motion of his Adam’s apple, mesmerized. “It just.. I’m sorry, but we just don’t fit together. We don’t fit as friends, and we don’t want the same things in a relationship. So I… I just can’t be your ‘friend’.”

“Huh,” Lafayette said. He was aware that he was contributing precious little to this really important conversation, but he also had no idea what to say about that. Hercules was telling him that he was walking out of his life.

As if he had ever properly been in his life in the first place.

His phone beeped.

“The taxi’s here,” he murmured as he looked at the screen. He desperately wanted to respond to what Hercules had said, but there was just nothing. His mind was a complete blank.

Hercules nodded. “Give me your token, I’m getting your coat.”

Lafayette frowned at him. “You don’t have to…”

“Friends or not, I’m going to see you to that cab,” he said, the sadness now covered by the same seriousness Lafayette had seen on his face when he had taken his measurements.

It was really not a good idea to think of the way he had smelled then, right now.

“Alright,” he conceded and handed Hercules the token. To be honest, he rather didn’t want to rouse one of the cloakroom clerks himself. He felt hot and horny and miserable, and he just wanted to hide in his bed and never speak with anybody again.

Hercules left him in the restroom and came back a few minutes later with his coat. Lafayette had splashed his face with water a few more times, but it really hadn’t been a lot of help. He declined Hercules’ offer to help him into his coat and instead shrugged it on himself before he left the restroom and slunk through the foyer towards the exit, Hercules hot on his heels.

“I really think you should go and watch the rest of the show,” Lafayette mumbled when they stepped out into the cool early autumn night.

Hercules shook his head. “It’s alright. I kind of want to go home now too.”

“Alright,” Lafayette said, then he turned towards the car that was waiting for him right in front of the theater. For a moment, he hesitated. He wanted to turn around and throw his arms around Hercules, kiss him and beg him to come home with him, but he knew that he couldn’t do that. So he just turned his head a little, not enough to actually look at him, and nodded goodbye.

Then he entered the taxi, told the driver his address, and did his best to stop himself from looking back to where Hercules was standing at the curb.


	11. Chapter 11

Hercules did not leave the house on Sunday. He had given in to his stupid impulses and bought himself a six-pack last night on his way home; he’d wanted to go for the red wine first, but even just looking at the bottle had reminded him too much of Lafayette, so he had bought the most un-Lafayette thing in the bodega. And with how rarely he actually drank alcohol, he likely had his physical mass to thank that he hadn’t blacked out after the fifth can.

The headache and the disgusting taste in his mouth the next day seemed like the exactly right way for his body to feel when he was in as much of a shit mood as he was after what had happened at the theater. He could still smell Lafayette’s heat-scent, even after he had put all of the clothes he had worn into a bag for the dry-cleaner, even after he’d showered in the morning until the water had gone cold. It was as if his scent had been rubbed right into the part of his brain that controlled his senses; he just didn’t know how to get rid of it.

He got himself off after his shower, with his head throbbing and his throat parched and his mind flooded with desperate need and desperate sadness, and Lafayette’s scent still in his nose, his flushed face still behind his eyes, the warmth of his flushed body still radiating against his skin.

In the end, he still thought that he had done the right thing. This friendship would just not have worked out. Hercules would have suffered every time he had in any way been exposed to the fact that Lafayette was seeing somebody, or that he had a casual relationship with somebody, and he would have had to try and keep those feelings from Lafayette. And he knew that at some point, he would have started to despise Lafayette for it. He wasn’t able to just be Lafayette’s friend, and he couldn’t stand the thought of lying to both of them by acting as if he was for who knew how long. He wanted to be Lafayette’s friend, he really wanted that. He wanted to be around him, he wanted to talk with him and laugh with him and get his funny cat memes and recommend old films to him and have dinner and see shows with him; but he also wanted to look into those beautiful eyes for hours, he wanted to kiss his soft lips and feel his beard catch against his skin, he wanted to hold him in his sleep and he wanted to take care of him during his heat. He wanted to be with him, but if the only way to be with him would be to watch him have his affairs or ignore them while still knowing about them, then he just couldn’t be with Lafayette. He couldn’t do that to himself. And it was incredibly unfair to Lafayette, too.

He was lucky that he had all of Sunday to pull himself back together before he had to go back to work on Monday. By the end of the day, after several hours of moping and watching netflix shows that he had already watched twenty times and eating delivery from the Jamaican restaurant two blocks away, he felt nearly human again. Nearly.

When he woke up the next day, however, he felt like absolute shit again, even without the aid of far too much cheap alcohol. He seriously considered calling in sick up until the moment when he really, really had to get out of bed if he wanted to make it to work. Then he decided that spending another day alone in his apartment was absolutely not going to help him, so he stood up, had his shower, took his scent blockers, and dressed in the most comfortable clothes he could get away with at a high-fashion work place. He bought himself a pastry and coffee for breakfast on his way to work, and then arrived just in time to start his work day.

Michaela, of course, noticed his bad mood hardly two seconds after she’d greeted him. After the weak smile and the half-assed “Hey” he had given her she didn’t even ask him how his weekend went. She just let him settle in and get to work, watching him out of the corner of her eyes for nearly fifteen minutes before she finally couldn’t contain her curiosity anymore.

“What the fuck happened? You were like, glowing when you got off work Friday, and now you look like you just came from your dog’s funeral? Oh no,” she slapped a hand to her mouth. “Did somebody die?!”

Hercules rolled his eyes, even though he knew it was mean. Michaela looked really worried. “No, nobody died. Please, just let me do my work, Mick.”

Michaela kept looking at him, and now she crossed her arms in front of her chest and tapped the needle she was holding in her right hand against her upper arm.

“It’s the boyfriend, isn’t it? The guy whose texts you kept staring at for the last few weeks?”

Hercules let out an annoyed sigh. “I don’t have a boyfriend, Michaela. Just leave it be.”

To Hercules utter surprise, Michaela actually did leave it be. But she kept giving him worried looks throughout the morning, and when they had their lunch together in the cafe on the ground level of their building, she paid for his food before he had any chance to keep her from it. 

She finally stopped “leaving it be” during their coffee break.

“Okay, so,” she started. “I know you think you don’t want to talk about this thing, whatever is going on, but honestly, you seem to be absolutely miserable, and I hate seeing you like this.”

Hercules sighed into his coffee cup. “There is really nothing you can do about it, Micki. And neither can I, really. It… it didn’t work out, and I hate that it didn’t work out, but that’s how it is.” He shrugged and took another sip of coffee.

“That sucks,” Michaela said, then she didn’t say anything for a while before she piped up again: “Okay, but even if you’re not super into talking about any of this stuff, how about we get a drink or something? Just to take your mind off whatever happened?”

Hercules found himself sighing again. He really needed to stop doing that.

“Listen, I’ve done all the drinking that I want to be doing yesterday. I’ve finished with the wallowing thing, I don’t need a repeat.”

“Well, it wouldn’t be wallowing,” Michaela tried to argue. “Like I said, you need a distraction, maybe.”

Herc shook his head. “Not right now. I’d really rather go home and deal with this on my own, in my own way, Micki.”

“Well, suit yourself,” Michaela said with only the slightest pout. “But it’s a standing offer. So if you do want to have that drink with me, you just tell me.”

******

He took that offer the next day. Because honestly, Monday evening just sucked. He didn’t have anymore alcohol at home, and he really didn’t want to go out and get anymore, so he just had a sad, lonely evening, just him, his frozen pizza and old Brooklyn Nine Nine episodes on Netflix.

Michaela took him to some swanky bar that he’d been to with her before. It was calm enough to talk, and they had a whole menu filled with creatively named cocktails that promised to get you drunk as a kite without you noticing until your sixth Yellow Bird.

Since Herc still really wasn’t in any mood to talk, Michaela took over that part. Sipping her strawberry daiquiri (she’d usually get more adventurous as the evening progressed), she told Hercules about the goings-on in her own life, how her sister had finally gotten a job in her field instead of just doing temp office work, how Jay had written her a message on facebook and she kinda really wanted to try whether the last two years had changed both of them in such a way that a relationship between them might work again, and how she had recently figured out her bra size was actually something completely different from what she had thought it was. Herc was fine with all of those topics, even though he did wonder how a seamstress could possibly miss the fact that she was wearing the wrong bra size. At least they got into something of a conversation over that, which actually did distract Herc for a while and, at one point, even made him laugh.

But his mood took a drastic plunge when she started to talk about a new movie she desperately wanted to see. Because in Herc’s mind, film recommendations were now apparently irrevocably linked to Lafayette. In fact, it got him down so much that he drained the rest of his long-drink and told Michaela that he appreciated the gesture, but he would really rather go home now. He put some bills on the table to pay for both of their drinks and for another one for Michaela if she wanted to stay, or for a cab if she’d leave after him, and then turned away quickly so he didn’t have to see her crestfallen face. Because even with how over-involved and nosy Michaela could be, he knew that she actually really cared.

He walked home by foot, so that he could get rid of the ghost of tipsiness his drink had summoned, and so that he could maybe air out his head enough to get a grip on what exactly his deal was right now. He knew that it was likely normal to feel down after a relationship had ended, even if it wasn’t a romantic relationship. Honestly, he hadn’t just cut himself off from a person he lusted for; he had ended a friendship that could have been very promising if it weren’t for his inability to actually feel friendship-feelings only for Lafayette.

And honestly, he needed more friends. With how busy he was with work these days, his social life was hardly existent. He spent his free time relaxing, lazing around his apartment, watching movies and reading and, worst of all, looking through trade magazines and fashion mags and internet sites to keep up to date with his job. His social life was basically one evening at a bar with Michaela every four months, and his bi-monthly dinner at Hugh’s. Also, coffee with his mum about every four weeks.

If he was going to be completely frank with himself, and really, there was no better time for that than walking home from a bar at eight o’clock on a Tuesday afternoon, then he honestly had to admit that he was lonely.

It had felt good to have another human being in his life again.

He thought back to his college days, when he’d always been surrounded by people. He honestly missed that. Maybe he should reach out to some of those people, or the guy who he had roomed with right after he’d finished college, in those few years when he’d still thought that accounting was something he could be happy with. He did wonder what Alex was up to.

But how was he supposed to have a rich social life while having the job he had? Working as a tailor made him happy, but it also didn’t allow for the kind of social circle he apparently needed if he wanted to be completely happy.

He just wanted to have people in his life who he could care for, who he could enjoy his free time with. And who were there for him when the going got rough. And he appreciated that Michaela was trying to do just that, but she was just… too intrinsically connected with his work. He needed some kind of life outside of work.

And it had been really nice, at least sharing some moments of his off-time with Lafayette, even if it was just through text messages. Their first date was still replaying in his mind, how they had been able to talk and talk and talk and just completely forget the time. He had felt drained after that evening, since he hadn’t had anything like that in a long, long time, but he had also felt incredibly satisfied. Incredibly happy.

He had never had a friendship-breakup, so he really didn’t know how to deal with any of this. Most of his friendships had just fizzled out. It hadn’t been a big deal, or even an event he could have pinpointed. And he didn’t know how far he could compare it to his romantic breakups. Of course, there had been romantic feelings - that had been the whole problem. But this whole thing was such a mess that he just couldn’t see his way through it.

And it really didn’t help his confused feelings when he walked up to his apartment and saw Lafayette sitting on the floor next to his door with a bouquet of flowers in his lap, fast asleep.


	12. Chapter 12

“What the fuck…” Herc walked up to Lafayette and knelt down in front of him before he gently shook him by the shoulder. Lafayette immediately startled awake, his eyes big and confused when he stared up at him.

“Oh!” He seemed to suddenly realize where he was, and he jumped to his feet with an agility that would have made a gymnast jealous and that nearly made his head collide with Herc’s. Luckily enough, Herc jerked back just in time for him to miss.

Now they were both standing across from each other, Lafayette with his bouquet of flowers clutched in one hand, still blinking to get the sleep out of his eyes, Herc very vaguely buzzed but feeling as if he’d taken crazy pills or something, because the guy he had broken up with for good just three days ago because he didn’t think they wanted the same thing out of their relationship was NOT standing in front of his door with a bouquet of flowers. That was not something that actually happened in real life.

“What the fuck is going on?” he finally broke the awkward silence between them.

“I…” Lafayette looked down at the flowers, a flush high on his cheeks. “See, I was… I mean…” He looked incredibly adorable when he was awkward like that, but it didn’t help Herc to make any sense of the situation. 

Herc shook his head for a second, then he pulled his keys out of his pocket. “Let’s take this inside, okay?” No matter what Lafayette was doing here, it was very likely not something that needed to be done in the hallway where everybody could just come by and see one of the most famous male models of the world making a fool of himself.

“Yeah, that would be… yeah,” Lafayette answered. Herc held the door open for him, then he followed him inside and closed it again.

“So, let’s try this again. What is going on here?”

Lafayette turned around to him and took a deep breath.

“I would have come earlier, but it took until yesterday night for my heat to go away,” he started. His gaze dropped to the flowers, then he looked up at Herc again. He bit his lower lip for a second, then he continued: “On Saturday, you said that we don’t want the same thing in a relationship. Well, during my heat-pauses, I thought about what I actually want in a relationship. I thought about whether I wanted to keep going like this. Don’t get me wrong, I don’t feel ashamed for my love life up to this point, but also… I get lonely, sometimes, you know. And I know that’s not a good reason to get into a serious relationship of itself, but…” He bit his lip again and let out an annoyed sigh. “I wish we could have this talk in French. Or no… I guess I wouldn’t know what to say in French either…”

Herc was frowning by now. He thought he got the core of what Lafayette was trying to say, and he could feel hope try to bloom in his chest, but he was sceptical. He didn’t want to get his hopes up just for Lafayette to go into a totally different direction.

“Anyway,” Lafayette went on, “I… I think I want to try it. A serious, committed relationship, that is. And I want to try that with you. If you will have me.”

The hope in his chest exploded into a firework of surprised joy that nearly knocked Herc off his feet.

He didn’t know what to say, or really, how to react. He just stared at Lafayette. At his eyes, looking at him imploringly. At his brows, pulled up in insecurity. At his cheeks, ruddy with excitement. At his lips, pressed tightly together as he waited for his answer.

“Yes,” Herc breathed out, glad that his voice wasn’t shivering. “Fuck, of course I’ll have you!” A huge grin spread on his face, and before he knew it he grabbed Lafayette’s face and pressed their lips together.

Lafayette was so surprised that he didn’t respond for a second, but then the bouquet hit the floor with a low thump, and his arms were around Herc, pulling him in as he tilted his head and pushed into the kiss. Herc closed his eyes when he felt Lafayette’s mouth open up, and then he tasted him for the first time, sweet and hot and so delicious that fire shot through his whole body. He let go of his face and put his arms around his neck instead, one hand touching the back of his head to hold him where he needed him as they kept the kiss going for longer than Herc had ever kissed anybody before.

When they pulled apart, Lafayette’s face was even more flush, and Hercules was seriously out of breath. Lafayette’s smell was everywhere around him, and it filled his lungs until he felt as if it was seeping into his blood together with the oxygen.

“Holy fucking shit,” Hercules whispered, then he kissed his lips again, just a short touch of his to Lafayette’s, as if he wanted to chase just a few more traces of his taste. “Holy fucking shit.”

“True,” Lafayette breathed, grinning from ear to ear. He leaned in and kissed Herc’s cheek, then rubbed his nose against it. “Should we take this somewhere else than your foyer, maybe?”

“Honestly, I’d take whatever this is no matter in what room we are…”

Lafayette let out a giggle - an honest to god giggle - at that, and his hands grabbed Herc’s hips to squeeze them gently. “I would not have guessed you were a sweet-talker, Hercules… If I knew where your bedroom is, I’d be dragging you there already, but I have not been in your home before, so you will have to help me…” His voice was velvet and honey, and when he rubbed his nose down over his jaw and against the hyper-sensitive skin over his scent gland, Herc could hardly keep himself from letting out a helpless whine of need.

“Come on,” he whispered, then he grabbed Lafayette’s wrist and pulled him with him to the living room and then into his bedroom. They didn’t even close the door behind them as they kissed again, Herc’s arms around Lafayette, Lafayette’s hands on the back of his head. Lafayette was just a tiny bit taller than Herc, but it was a thrill that he had to lay his head back just ever so slightly, bare his throat to him when he pushed closer and took more and more of his mouth. His taste made lights flash in his brain, and when he was finally pushed down onto the mattress, he felt as if he had been drugged, so high was he on Lafayette.

But when Lafayette fell to his knees and started to pull at his belt, Herc stopped his hands with his own. Lafayette looked up at him with confusion and worry in his eyes, but Herc just kissed those beautiful, long-fingered hands.

“Not like that,” he whispered. “Later, yes, absolutely, but not for our first time. I want to feel all of you, not just your hands and mouth.” 

A shiver ran through Lafayette, and he grinned up at Herc. “‘Our first time’… I like the sound of that,” he whispered, then he stood up again and started to open the buttons of his shirt. Herc, still sitting, did the same to his belt buckle and then to the button of his jeans.

Before he pulled down his zipper, though, he wrapped his arms around Lafayette’s legs and pulled him closer, so that he could bury his face right in Lafayette’s crotch and take a deep breath. The cinnamon and honey smell was so intense that he saw stars, and a deep, rough groan escaped his lips.

“So I don’t get to mouth at your cock but you do?” Lafayette asked playfully, one hand rubbing over Herc’s head and then down to the back of his neck.

“I can’t help it,” Herc murmured as he pulled away and pulled down that zipper. “You smell so incredible…”

Lafayette grinned, and Herc shivered at the way his eyes narrowed. “Your smell was pretty hot too, back that first day,” he said, shrugging out of his shirt. Herc had seen his naked chest in magazines before, but he wouldn’t have thought that he was actually this sculpted. His muscles weren’t as exaggerated as the retouching in the magazines had made them look, but his pecs were firm and when Herc touched his flat belly with his lips, the tickled movement revealed an honest to god six pack.

The hand at his neck came back to his forehead and gently pushed it back so he had to look up into those beautiful, mischievous eyes. “You really should stop using blockers,” Lafayette purred. His hand ran down over Herc’s temple, caressed his cheek. “I’m going to make sure your scent changes fast enough so everybody knows you’re taken… And then I get all of that delicious Alpha musk for myself…”

Herc let out a little snort and pulled down Lafayette’s pants. He was wearing beautiful red silk drawers, which Herc also pulled down after he had rubbed his face in them for a second. It was a good thing Lafayette had shed his shoes at some point on their way to the bedroom, because Herc didn’t know if he would have had the presence of mind to take those off before his pants. Who could remember logical undressing sequences if the person one was undressing was so absolutely breath-takingly gorgeous?

And now he was face to face with Lafayette’s half-hard cock and the lips hiding his pussy beneath it. He was completely waxed, and Herc couldn’t help himself, he just had to rub his nose over his smooth pubic bone and give his flushed tip the slightest lick.

Lafayette let out a little groan, but then there was a tug at his shoulders.

“Come on,” Lafayette purred as he sank down on the bed next to him and kissed his neck, licked up to his ear. One of his hands was at the front of his shirt, and he was trying to open his buttons with only the one hand. “I want to see too…”

Suddenly Herc felt self-conscious. Here was this god among men sitting next to him on his bed, beautiful and muscled and hairless as if he had come straight from a swimsuit shoot, and this total stunner wanted to see him naked? It wasn’t like he had ever been particularly ashamed of his body; he’d always maintained a certain amount of muscle mass, even though he really could go to the gym a little more, and honestly, he really liked the rich, warm color of his skin. But he also did have a pouch; he did have body hair. There were light stripes covering his hips and part of his belly from when he had gained twenty pounds during his college days. He wasn’t unattractive, but he definitely didn’t measure up to the perfect specimen sitting beside him.

Lafayette had apparently noticed his hesitation, and a click of his tongue brought Herc back into the moment.

“Don’t tell me you are shy, mon minou?” He frowned slightly, but then he leaned in again and kissed his neck once more. He ran his lips up a little bit and hit on a spot that made a shiver run through Herc’s entire body. “Come on,” Lafayette whispered right in his ear as he managed to open the first button with one hand. “Let me see…”

Herc could feel himself flush as one by one, Lafayette got rid of the buttons of his shirt, until he finally pushed the two sides away and bared Herc’s chest and belly. He pulled away from his neck, where he had breathed sweet kisses against Herc’s sensitive skin and sent him shivering with gentle purring noises.

Herc could feel Lafayette’s eyes roaming over his body, over his furry chest and his chubby belly; and then his hand followed, slender fingers rubbing over the curls of his body hair and then dipping down to gently grab at his belly fat.

To his utter surprise, Lafayette looked extremely satisfied, his eyes narrowed in _that_ way again. His lips spread in an absolutely kissable grin.

“Look at that,” he purred, his lips running over Herc’s cheek as he gently squeezed his belly. “I do love myself a soft boy…” He pulled away for a second, frowning again. “Is that how you say it? ‘I do love myself a…’?”

Herc couldn’t help a quick laugh. “I think ‘I love myself a’ is the more common form, but it definitely works the way you said it.”

Lafayette grinned again and leaned in, his lips nearly touching Herc’s.

“Good,” he whispered, and the feeling of his hot breath nearly drove Herc insane. “Because I want all of this soft, thick boy on me, right now…”

Herc let out a groan and turned to Lafayette to capture those devious lips in another kiss.

“You’re one hell of a tease,” he whispered against his lips, then he stood up to get rid of his shoes, socks, and pants. “Get on the bed.”

The grin remained on Lafayette’s face as he moved up on the bed far enough so that he was completely lying on it. He braced himself on his elbows and looked down at Herc, eyes shadowed under his thick lashes but still so inviting that Herc couldn’t muster the patience to actually take his underpants off. He just had to crawl after him until he could kiss him again, covering that firm, perfect body with his own, feeling the hardness of his cock through his briefs. Lafayette was already pawing at the last bit of fabric covering his body, pulling it down and grasping the globes of his ass with his long, deceptively strong fingers.

“Fuck,” he whispered against Herc’s lips, and Herc could only just keep himself from licking into his mouth again. “Your ass feels so nice…”

Herc was the one to grin now. “Hmm… Lots to grab, too…”

“Just enough,” Lafayette purred, then he gently bit Herc’s lower lip. “Lift that sweet ass up and pull down those pants…”

“We in a hurry, babe?”

“I don’t know if you are, but I kinda am.” Lafayette emphasized his words by pushing Herc’s ass down so that he could feel his hard cock rub imploringly against the briefs. “Come on…”

Herc grinned as he pressed a quick kiss to Lafayette’s cheek. “You got it,” he whispered, then he lifted his hips up as far as Lafayette’s greedy hands would let him and started to shimmy out of his briefs until he could kick them off.

“Oh fuck yes” Lafayette whispered as Herc pushed back down against him. Their cocks rubbed together in an explosion of heat, and their gasps mingled as Herc pushed his lips against Lafayette’s again.

Lafayette felt incredible beneath him. He was warm and solid, his skin so soft that Herc had half a mind to just rub himself against him forever. His scent was surrounding the both of them now, and in his arousal it had become deeper, the honey turning into red wine, just the smell of roses lacking to completely emulate his heat smell. He broke the kiss just to find his scent gland with his nose and rub up against it to make Lafayette moan while he took deep breaths and let his scent suffuse his entire being. He started rocking his hips back and forth, rubbing his cock against Lafayette’s haphazardly, too in the moment, too blissful to actually put up the energy to turn this into anything that could lead anybody to a climax. He didn’t want this to end, not yet.

Lafayette allowed Herc to kiss and scent his throat for several minutes while undulating his body beneath him, meeting his rocking motions, before he grabbed Herc’s chin and gently tugged him upwards.

“Kiss me again or I’m going to die,” he whispered, and even though the drama of his words made Herc grin again, he still complied and came back up to get another deep taste of those beautiful lips and that sweet, sweet mouth.

Lafayette’s arms slid farther up until he was hugging Herc, fingers digging into the muscles of his back. Herc was holding his own weight braced on his elbows which he had put next to Lafayette’s head, and as he pushed himself up again, he was treated to the incredible view of Lafayette’s flushed face, his sex-glazed eyes, his kiss-swollen lips, all framed by Herc’s own forearms. He couldn’t help a groan as he kissed his lips once more.

By now both of their cocks were so hard that Herc could feel Lafayette’s pulsing against his skin, and his own cock was aching with his need to get some more focused attention. Still with his lips against Lafayette’s, he let one of his hands run over his chest and slip between their sweat-slick bodies, pushing himself up on his knees just enough to give his hand some room to move. When he reached Lafayette’s cock, he rubbed his length once, twice, drinking the breathless moans from his lips before he let his fingers stray deeper, right between his soft folds. Hot wetness and another deep moan from Lafayette greeted his fingers, and he let them run up and down his slit for a while, not penetrating him, just teasing his entrance on every downward-stroke, before he finally brought his slicked-up fingers to Lafayette’s cock again. But instead of just stroking him like this, he lined up his own cock with his partner’s and wrapped his hand around both of them.

Lafayette threw his head back in a groan.

“Your hand feels so good,” he gasped.

“Your entire body feels incredible,” Herc replied, his other hand pushing below Lafayette’s head so he could lift him up just enough to kiss him again while he slowly started to rub both of their cocks at the same time.

Lafayette moaned into the kiss, his hips rocking up and meeting every stroke of Herc’s fingers with needy vigour. Herc was getting more hot and bothered with every second too; with every upstroke he was letting his thumb rub over his tip in just the way he liked it, and with every downstroke he could feel the intoxicating sensation of Lafayette pushing up against him, his whole body shaking with every thrust. With their lips still locked, they were breathing the same air, their sweaty bodies were gliding against each other as if they had been made just for this moment, their mingling moans became something new, something different, so delicious that Herc was sure he was going to lose his mind any minute now.

Herc came first, but he didn’t slow his hand for a second as his come hit both of their bellies; he stroked himself through his orgasm while giving Lafayette some extra pressure and friction by thrusting against his cock in a complimentary rhythm to Lafayette’s own, and he didn’t pull away from him until he could feel the body below his stiffen, then shudder as Lafayette held his breath for a moment before he came with a choked-off whine, mixing his seed with Herc’s on the overheated skin of both of their bodies.


	13. Chapter 13

Herc woke up to a gentle hand caressing his shoulder, and soft lips rubbing over his cheek.

With a low sigh, he rolled around and swung one arm over Lafayette’s warm body next to him.

“Morning,” he murmured, snuggling against him, determined to go back to sleep. His alarm hadn’t gone off yet, so it was obviously not time for work yet.

But Lafayette kept him from sinking back into his sleeps with a gentle kiss to his lips and low words that finally made Herc blink his eyes open.

“I have an appointment at eight, and I need to go home and change before I go there,” he whispered. “I didn’t want to just go and let you wake up on your own, though.”

Herc let out a little groan, then he rubbed his eyes and sat up.

“Alright, alright,” he said. “But let me make you breakfast, yeah?”

“Sure.” Another kiss, longer this time. Herc closed his eyes and leaned into it, sighing lowly as Lafayette pulled away again.

“I am having a shower while you finish waking up, alright?”, he asked, a cheeky smile on his face as he rubbed his nose against Herc’s cheek. Herc didn’t know if he would have taken Lafayette as the cuddly type, but he definitely liked it a lot.

“Sure,” he yawned, then he stretched his arms over his head as Lafayette hopped out of bed and towards the door to the bathroom.

Herc grunted lowly as he pulled the blanket off himself and discovered the sticky mess he had neglected to get rid off last night.

“Fuck,” he muttered as he stood up and started to peel the sheets off his bed. In retrospect, he was really lucky that his lust-addled mind had decided that it wanted fast and dirty frottage, and not actual penetrative sex. Because even if they were exclusive now - as strange as that thought felt just less than twelve hours after the fact - he didn’t know nearly enough about Lafayette’s sexual history to be having unsafe sex with him. He didn’t even know if he was on the pill. Goddamn, he really shouldn’t have taken that kind of risk. Especially since there was a pack of condoms right in his nightstand. Of course, they might be a bit old at this point and he should definitely replace them now, but they would have been better than nothing.

Lafayette came back from the bathroom just as Herc was putting the bedding into the laundry basket. He had slung one of Herc’s towels around his shoulders, but otherwise he was still as bare as when they had woken up.

“Hey,” Lafayette said with a grin as he came up to Herc to press another sweet kiss to his lips.

“Careful.” Herc put a hand on Lafayette’s shoulder so he could keep him from going in for a hug. “You’re about to get yourself all sticky again.”

Lafayette shrugged, but pulled back regardless. “I left plenty of warm water, so that really shouldn’t be a problem.”

Herc let out a little snort. “True, but you could also wait for about three minutes and get to hug me when I’m all clean too.”

He winked at Lafayette, then he left for the bathroom too.

When he came out of the shower, Lafayette had put on the clothes he had been wearing yesterday and was sitting on one of the stools by his kitchen counter. Next to him, the flowers he had brought yesterday stood in one of Herc’s bigger glasses. They were looking pretty sad, likely because they had been lying on the floor since last night, but who knew; they might still perk up once they had their fill of water.

“By the way,” Herc said as put on an apron, then he went to the fridge to get out some eggs. “We really should have used condoms yesterday. I mean, I don’t know if you’re on the pill or anything, but… That was definitely some unnecessary risk.” Most Omegas he knew - and who would tell him that kind of information - used combination drugs both for their birth control and their heat and scent suppression. It was easier to make sure that all the drugs worked together, that way. And since Lafayette apparently used no suppressor at all…

“I’m on the pill, yes,” answered Lafayette, who had just checked his texts and now put his phone on the counter in front of him. “See, I feel that scent blockers and heat blockers are really unnecessary and do more harm than good, especially because it pathologizes the completely normal processes of our bodies into something morally wrong. The pill, however, frees us to do what we want to do without all of the natural consequences. I mean, the whole sexual revolution happened because of it.”

“So it’s not a medical thing?” Hercules asked as he cracked some eggs into a pan where bacon was already sizzling. “How do you like your eggs?”

“Anyway, really, just make them like you’d make them for yourself. And no, it’s not mainly medical. Though I also don’t completely trust the American pharma industry, to be honest.”

“Don’t think anybody does at this point,” Hercules murmured as he got out a few slices of toast to put into his toaster. “Are you getting your pill from France then?”

“Yes, in general. I get over there at least every few months, and then I usually go to my doctor and get relevant medication. Also, all the pastry I can eat.”

“Sounds nice. Can’t say I’ve ever been to France.” The last time he had been to Europe had been when he’d gone to his grandma’s funeral when he was 16.

“Well,” said Lafayette, taking a sip of the glass of orange juice Herc had put in front of him. “If this thing between us works out, I will definitely take you at some point. And not just Paris. I mean, I like Paris a lot, but the place I am from is definitely nothing to sneeze at.”

“What did you say that was?” Herc turned the eggs and bacon, but kept looking over his shoulder to Lafayette. “Avignon?”

“Close. I was born in Chavaniac, in the Auvergne. I spent most of my childhood in Paris, but there is still our ancestor’s castle there that I own and that I like to visit.”

That made Herc turn to him completely. “You own a _castle_?”

Lafayette grinned. “Yes, but it is honestly less glamorous than most Americans think when they hear that. It is incredibly expensive to upkeep, and the paperwork would kill me if I did not have a good lawyer at home. There are tours and things in summer, too.”

“That is so weird,” Herc shook his head, but Lafayette just laughed.

“It honestly is. Even for French people.” Lafayette grinned up at him as Herc presented him with a plate of crispy bacon and over easy eggs with a side of golden toast. He set out a butter dish and a salt shaker and then he pulled the stool next to Lafayette onto the other side so he could sit across from him while he ate his own breakfast.

“So you’re trying to tell me not every French person has their own private castle?” Herc asked, shoving a bite of bacon into his mouth while he tried to suppress a grin. “I can hardly believe that.”

“Oh, it’s true. Only very special French people with at least six different first names get their own castle.” Lafayette cut a bite off his egg using the side of his fork and put it into his mouth. “That is very good,” he said, taking another bite immediately.

“Yeah, I’m pretty good with eggs,” Herc said. “Best food for when you’re too lazy to get anything complicated cooked up.”

Lafayette balanced a bit of the crispy bacon on his fork and then nibbled it into his mouth like a bunny with a blade of grass. “Can you do poached eggs?”

“Sometimes. I had a phase where I tried to make the perfect Egg Benedict, but only about one in five of my eggs didn’t explode.”

Lafayette nodded. “Difficult stuff, that. To be honest, my egg-abilities are only scrambled and cooked. I have a real knack with barbecue though.”

“Really?”

“Yeah.” Lafayette winked. “I can do wonders with sausages.”

Herc nearly snorted up his orange juice. “Goddamn…”

With a grin that nearly went to his ears, Lafayette leaned forward. “So, do you want to get tested?”, he asked, a question which was somewhat incongruous with his facial expression. “I know a clinic that is really fast with this kind of stuff. Then we could, you know… Avoid the whole condom thing.”

Herc thought about that for a moment while he cut off another bite of his egg.

“I mean, it’s probably a good idea. Though that’ll only work if both of us don’t sleep with anybody else without condoms.” He was afraid that he sounded a little accusatory, but Lafayette didn’t notice. He just shrugged.

“I never sleep with one-night-stands without a condom anyway, and to be honest, if we are going with a stable relationship, I’m not going to stray.” He looked at Herc with an expression that was at the same time earnest and promising. “I don’t do things by halves.”

“Good.” Herc was pretty sure the smile on his face looked goofy as fuck, but he honestly just did not care.

“So, the testing is go?” Lafayette asked and reached for his phone again. “I’ve got a pretty full calendar next week, but I think I could squeeze it in Thursday. I’ll text you the address, so you just go whenever you’ve got time.”

“Alright.” Herc buttered his toast and took a bite while he watched Lafayette’s long fingers fly over his keys. “Do you have any time this weekend, maybe? So we can, you know…” He made a vague motion with the hand he was holding the toast in.

“Do couple things?” Lafayette asked, looking up from his phone with a grin. “I have time most of Saturday, actually. Friday evening too, at least after eight.”

Herc felt heat rise in his cheeks, which was absolutely inappropriate, since he was talking with his boyfriend here, goddamnit.

“Would you maybe like to come over after eight, then? If you don’t have dinner before that, I could cook for you… Something different than eggs, of course.”

“Ooh, that sounds nice!” Lafayette’s eyes sparkled as he put down his phone and reached out over the counter to put his hand on Herc’s - the one without the toast. “I would definitely like that a lot. We could watch a movie after. And cuddle.”

That wink again. This guy was going to be the death of Herc, seriously.

“Awesome,” he said with a little cough. “Are you allergic to anything?” Lafayette had asked him that before, but he hadn’t gotten the same info about him yet.

“Not allergic per se, no, but I’m lactose intolerant. Most cheeses and yogurts are okay, though. Butter is also okay.” He nodded towards the butter dish. “Also, I get this rash in my mouth from tropic fruits. It’s okay when they’re cooked, like ananas in curry or something. Or plantains. But raw isn’t great.”

“Ananas?”

“Oh, right, pineapple.” Lafayette frowned. “Most of those fruits are pretty much the same in French and English, so I get confused about that one. Pineapple is also a very stupid word.”

Herc grinned. “True. But you can’t say that ‘pomme de terre’ is that much less stupid.”

Lafayette chuckled. “True. But don’t tell that to any French person who doesn’t get to fuck you, or you are in big trouble.”

“Hmm…” Herc turned the hand that still had Lafayette’s lying on it around and closed his fingers around him, caressing his knuckles. “Lucky for me the only French person I want to talk potatoes with woke up in my very own bed this morning.”

This absolutely cheesy line was met with the raise of a perfectly groomed pair of eyebrows. “Is that some kind of idiom I do not know? ‘Talk potatoes with’?”

“Nope.” Herc squeezed Lafayette’s hand. “Though it does sound pretty Irish, doesn’t it?”

Lafayette shook his head, but he was still grinning. “Tel drol,” he said, which meant exactly nothing to Herc, whose non-fashion-related French really was pretty limited to oui, non and pomme de terre, but the smile he was giving him while he was saying it made it pretty clear to him that it was something nice. It also made him think that if he was going to actually be with Lafayette, he should try and learn French. At least some. He’d look into that this evening after work.

Speaking of work, Lafayette was checking his phone again.

“Alright, I really need to go now,” he said, then he leaned over the counter, grabbed the back of Herc’s head, and pulled him in for a long, deep kiss that tasted of bacon and orange juice.

Herc could definitely get used to that.


	14. Chapter 14

It was such a strange feeling to reply to a booty call - or really, a booty text, this was 2017 - with /Hi! I’m super sorry, but I’m in a monogamous relationship now./ Lafayette never knew if he should add anything to that. Would it be strange to say something like /We had a really good time, thanks for that/, or, /I’ll see you at the shooting next week/? The fashion world was incredibly incestuous, and most of his previous flings he still worked with, but that kind of comment seemed a little out of place in this kind of message.

Most of the people who received those texts from him sent back some kind of congratulations, which Lafayette found a little funny. Quite a number said that they’d be missing him, and if it didn’t work out he’d still have their number, often followed with kissy emojis. And a few, well, really only two, tried to get him to dish on who that new fella was, but he just responded to those with /You know I don’t kiss and tell/ plus a kissy emoji of his own.

And damn, those kisses. He had actually considered just dropping by Herc’s work or his apartment just to get another quick kiss. He had no idea what it was about Hercules, but he tasted so damn good that Lafayette just couldn’t stop thinking about his lips and his tongue and his taste when he got himself off in the shower Wednesday evening. And Thursday morning. And Thursday evening. He did decide not to actually jerk off on Friday, but that did make everything a lot harder, because his head was just so full of Hercules, of his beautiful smile, his soft lips, his body that was soft and firm at the same time, his heaviness on top of him, those huge hands running down his body, that incredible scent when he was sweating and sexed out…

He nearly had to take a break from a shoot because his mind was wandering too much, and seriously, this was absolutely not like him; he was usually so proud of his professionalism.

He managed to avoid any embarrassing incidents though, and made it through the morning without having to take a longer-than-usual bathroom break. He had a lunch appointment with Gordon, and then there’d be a Skype appointment with his estate lawyer in France, a fitting and, finally, an interview for a Brazilian fashion magazine.

He was sitting at his favourite downtown sushi place, wondering whether he should take his usual set of sake nigiri or if he should give the futomaki a second chance - he had tried three different kinds of them, but they really just were too busy for him - when Gordon arrived and took his seat right across from Lafayette.

“Well, hello there, Gordon,” Lafayette said as he closed the menu and handed it to the PR consultant. “How are you on this fine Friday?”

“Busy, as alway,” Gordon said as he opened up the menu and closed it right away. As he turned around to hail one of the waitresses, Lafayette gave him a quick once-over. He looked the same as always, down to his tie. Darker skin than Hercules, a little stocky, devastatingly handsome when he wanted to be but mostly he just always looked a little rushed. At some point Lafayette had considered trying to get into his pants, if just to see how he’d look like when he was relaxed for a change, but then he’d given up on the thought pretty fast. Other than most of the people he worked with, he wasn’t only working with Gordon for a year or two; the kind of relationship they had didn’t really lend itself to casual sex.

He ordered his usual nigiri and some white wine - he’d never understood why Americans didn’t like to drink at lunch - then he turned to Gordon with a smile. “So, the report?”

Gordon nodded and handed him his tablet where he had already opened a detailed bi-weekly PR report including search engine and social media data, clicks on various articles about him, and of course, all articles or mentions in magazines and on important websites.

“Looks good,” Lafayette said as he scrolled down. He hadn’t done anything blatantly strange last week, as far as the press knew, so most of the articles were just about his streetwear or about him showing up at events. He really had been lucky as all fuck that nobody had witnessed the entire theatre debacle…

“I’m sending that to your e-mail as soon as we’re done here,” Gordon said as Lafayette handed his tablet back.

“So is there anything I should keep an eye out? Any new developments?”

“Leroy called me earlier, apparently some fragrance company has been asking about me. There’s a chance they might want me to be the new face for a line of perfumes.” Their sushi came, and Lafayette immediately took a small bite of ginger. He wondered whether Hercules liked sushi. Maybe he could take him here for lunch tomorrow? “Inspired by the Cote d’Azur, apparently. I mean, I’m not from there, but I guess I know the feeling of the place, so that doesn’t really matter.” It also hadn’t mattered when he’d been the face of another company’s Provence-inspired line of skin care for men, a few years back. French was French, as far as Americans were concerned.

“That’s good news,” Gordon said, taking notes on his tablet and ignoring his tempura ebi maki. “The fashion weeks are over, Christmas is coming, if they can get this started before November your other lines could get additional eyes from this.”

“Nice.” Lafayette took a bite off his sushi. He wasn’t exactly listening to Gordon, because the questions whether or not Hercules liked futomaki or not, and whether he should ask him to accompany him to a Korean barbecue place next week, were far more interesting to think about than his publicity.

“Anything else I should know?” Gordon asked, eyes still on his tablet, typing away.

“Hm? Oh, yeah.” Lafayette sat back on his chair with a grin, feeling bizarrely like a proud child showing a painting to a relative. “I’m in a stable relationship now. Monogamous and all.”

That made Gordon look up from his tablet. “You are what?”

The tone of his voice immediately made the smile fade from Lafayette’s face and a frown replace it. He sounded as if he had just told him he was going to cut off all his hair and get a facial tattoo.

“I’ve got a boyfriend. An exclusive one. I’m done with the casual dating.”

Lafayette’s frown was now reflected back on Gordon’s face. “You can’t be serious. I didn’t even know you were interested in anybody like that.” He shook his head for a second, then he asked: “So who is it?”

“Hercules. You met him last Friday.”

Gordon’s eyebrows shot up at that. “The tailor? That…” He stopped himself and pressed his lips together.

“That what?” Lafayette was leaning forward now, his lunch forgotten. What the fuck was wrong with Gordon?

Gordon cleared his throat and put up his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

“It’s just, your casual way of conducting your romantic life is a big part of your image, you have to realize that. It keeps you in the gossip papers, and it makes you a symbol of sexual freedom for a whole lot of Omegas out there. I understand that you want to… settle down or something,” he made a face at that, “but if you give up that image, you should at least exchange it for something else we can use to further your popularity.”

“What in the world are you trying to tell me?” Lafayette felt himself getting angry.

“I am just telling you that, if you insist on starting a relationship like that, you really should consider finding some other celebrity to be with. An athlete, or a designer. Somebody whose popularity we can leverage to raise yours. Somebody who is on your level.”

Lafayette was silent for a few moments, trying to process what Gordon had just said.

“Somebody who is on my level?”, he repeated. “Gordon, you have got to be shitting me.”

“There is no need to be profane,” Gordon said, his eyes on his tablet again, typing away. “I’m sure we can ask around to see if anybody is looking for something serious right now, set up some dates, make sure you meet some people at events… It would also be preferable if that person wouldn’t be an Alpha, so we don’t undermine your image as an independent, take-charge Omega. I can promise you that there is somebody out there who is more compatible with your lifestyle.”

“I’m not in a relationship because I want somebody who compliments my lifestyle, or because I want to uphold an image” Lafayette said, his voice dangerous low because he felt he was about to scream. He stood up and shoved his chair under the table. “I am in love with Hercules. And if you think you could ever stop me from being with who I want to be with, let alone play matchmaker for me, you are very mistaken.”

And with that, he turned around and walked out of the restaurant without looking at Gordon again. He could pay the fucking bill for all Lafayette cared. He had no words for how insulted he felt. He had to have a serious word with his PR agency, because he was not going to even speak a word with Gordon again in the foreseeable future.

What an absolute asshole. Maybe he should just fire the whole company and get himself a new agency.

In what kind of fucked up world was Gordon living, anyway? What the fuck kind of life was Lafayette living if he actually needed permission from a fucking PR agent to be with who he wanted to be? Yeah, he was a celebrity, but that didn’t mean everything about his life needed to be about him being a celebrity. And what was that absolute horseshit about him being with an Alpha somehow infringing on his image as an independent Omega? He was an independent Omega, that wasn’t just some image that could be changed with a bit of bad press, and how the fuck was him being with an Alpha supposed to make him any less independent? What kind of second-wave bullshit was this? Though it did tell him quite a bit about Gordon. If that was how he, an Alpha, viewed Omegas, like they were only independent as long as no dirty Alpha got their grubby fingers all over them, then he honestly didn’t want to have anything to do with him anymore.

For a second he thought about calling Hercules and venting about this to him. But then he thought better of it and just called an Uber to get him back home so he could set up the Skype call with his estate agent. He really shouldn’t rant about this to anybody. His relationship with Hercules was still too tender to put any strange thoughts like “You’re a problem for my career” into his head, and there wasn’t really anybody else with whom he could talk about this… He didn’t want to talk about it with his agent, he didn’t want to talk about it with any of his model friends, so who was there? Nobody, that’s who.

He bought himself a slice of pizza from a little shop right across the street and wolfed it down while he waited for the car. Maybe if this thing with Hercules worked out, if they really managed to become real, proper boyfriends, he could tell him in a few months. But until then, he’d have to deal with this alone.


	15. Chapter 15

Herc had a pretty hard time wrapping his head around what had happened. But even without actually quite understanding how it was possible that his entire life had been turned around within the last twenty four hours, he still felt like he was walking on clouds that Wednesday. He knew he had to look absolutely stupid, but he couldn’t stop smiling even after Lafayette had left his apartment. It was as if his face had gotten a new default setting, and every attempt of his to stop the stupid grin on his face just lasted for as long as he was able to concentrate on it.

Of course people noticed when he came into work. And of course the one to mention it first was Michaela. To be fair, Herc could understand that she was confused. When she had last seen him in the bar, he had been too desolate to even enjoy a night out, and now he came into work the next morning looking as if he had never been happier? Of course she was curious.

“Damn, what happened? You look like you swallowed a whole pack of happy pills,” she asked as she leaned over her work station just to get a closer look at Herc. “I thought you were all down in the dumps about your late mystery-boyfriend?”

“Well,” Herc said as he put his wallet and phone onto his table, “my ‘late mystery-boyfriend’ turned into my ‘current mystery-boyfriend’ last night.”

Michaela’s mouth fell open. “You’re kidding!”

“I am absolutely not.” He couldn’t help giving her a wink, even though that was something he usually never would have done. It was far more a Lafayette-thing than a Herc-thing. But the idea that he wasn’t only going to get to find out about a whole lot of different Lafayette-things, but that he might even take on some of his habits and peculiarities made him giddy again. Lafayette actually wanted to be his boyfriend. In a monogamous relationship. He got all of Lafayette’s romance and sensuality for himself. How was it possible that he had gotten this lucky? Even getting this job at Hume’s, which had been the greatest miracle in his life back when it had happened, seemed hardly out of the ordinary in comparison.

“That is absolutely insane!” Michaela shook her head, then she leaned closer towards him. “You have to tell me absolutely everything! Hell, I don’t even know his name!”

Herc’s smile turned a little sheepish. “I’m really sorry Mick, but I don’t think I can tell you his name yet. We haven’t talked about becoming public, and he’s a celebrity, so it’s a bit-”

“You’re dating a celeb?! For real?” He could have sworn Michaela’s eyes were about to pop right out of her head. “Oh my god, that is absolutely crazy! Good for you, Herc!” Now a gigantic grin to rival Herc’s own appeared on his coworkers face, and she slapped him on the shoulder. “Who would have guessed our own little Herc would bag himself a big fish? I always thought you’d meet a cute little Omega and get a house in the ‘burbs and have sixteen children. Though of course, that might still happen with a celeb.”

She leaned in and took a whiff at him. “It is an Omega though, isn’t it? Either that or your barista was a free-scenter.”

“He is an Omega, yes. But calling him ‘cute and little’ might not be quite accurate.” Just thinking of Lafayette’s beautiful face and his divine body made Hercules feel as if his brain was turning to mush. “‘Hot as fuck’ and ‘gorgeous’ would hit the mark better, I’d say.”

“Uuuugh I can’t believe you can’t tell me who it iiiiis,” Michaela whined, but there was still that giddy grin on her face. “Oh god, please talk with him about going public, okay? If you keep me in suspense for too long I might explode!” She wagged her finger in front of Herc’s face. “And if I explode at work, you’ll get my bloody bits all over those silk pants cuts.”

“Nah, I’ll be done with the pants by tonight,” Herc replied. “I’d be getting your gunk all over the tweed jacket that’s next on my list.”

“Even worse,” Michaela huffed.

“I’ll talk to him”, Herc said as he prepared to finish cutting the silk he was working with. “But I really can’t promise anything, Micky. It’s totally up to him.”

Michaela sighed and went back to her own needle and thread. “Yeah, okay, I get that. But still, I am super happy for you. You honestly deserve being with somebody awesome.”

Herc felt as if a part of his heart melted at those words. “Thank you, Micky. I really appreciate it.”

“Also if you have a big castle wedding, don’t you dare and forget to invite me.”

He didn’t reply to that last bit, but he couldn’t help but think that that was much more likely than Michaela might think. After all, Lafayette owned a castle. Which was still an absolutely crazy thought.

But even though he was incredibly happy right now, it was still far too early to be thinking about marriage, in a castle or otherwise.

Though a boy could dream, right?

************

The question about what to actually make for dinner when Lafayette would come over on Friday came into Herc’s mind when he stopped to get groceries on his way home from work on Wednesday. He came home, started a pot with water so he could make his pasta once it was boiling, and immediately sat down by his laptop to figure out what kind of meal he could make. He knew that he would never be able to hold up to the luxury restaurants Lafayette was used to, but he still wanted to impress him. He wanted Lafayette to really enjoy eating his food.

He started his search for the perfect date meal on one of the recipe sites he sometimes looked at when he was bored. He had found a few interesting recipes there in the past, and there were new things to try nearly every day, but while he scrolled through pages upon pages of recipes for things like zoodles, red snapper with lemongrass and chicken in tahini marinade, he realized that this wasn’t the right approach here at all. If he found a new dish, he would be doing it for the first time, and he knew from experience that cooking anything for the first time usually led to a rather disappointing meal and a lot of ideas on how to do it differently the next time to actually make it taste good. Hell, he had experimented for months before he’d found the perfect way to make his barley and beef stew.

Sadly, barley and beef stew might have been a great comfort food, but it definitely wasn’t date food.

He stood up to put the pasta into the boiling water and started to cut the vegetables and ham he was going to cook into a pasta sauce with some cream once the noodles were ready. Pasta might make a good date food, he thought… He could make a banging carbonara. But then again, that would be nearly too easy. He would have nearly three hours of time on Friday, and he wanted to put proper work into whatever he would make for Lafayette.

That meant he needed some kind of recipe that he’d made before, that was time-consuming and work-intense and date-appropriate. Also, of course, tasty.

While he cut the ham into small cubes, he mentally went through the list of things he knew how to cook, and the things he had cooked in the past. There was this Eastern European pork filet recipe he had tried a few times back when he’d still been living with a roommate, where you wrapped pork medailions into bacon and then cooked it in a hot sauce that was just mild enough that Herc actually enjoyed eating it, and then served it over broad noodles. Or the curry chicken recipe his former roommate had taught him, with plantains and rice.

Suddenly it hit him.

His mum’s beef roast.

It seemed so simple whenever he had helped her make it, and even if his own solo-attempts had never quite been as delicious as when his mum made it, it had still been very, very tasty. If he made that, plus some extras, like green beans with bacon, and the recipe for caramelized carrots he’d used a few times…

Maybe he could even make potato au gratin? Was it presumptuous to cook French food for a French person? Of course, potato au gratin was basically cheesy potatoes without the cheddar, and with some other fancier cheeses instead, but the recipe Herc had adapted for his own taste had been from a French cookbook, according to the internet site he had taken it from, and he really did think it tasted very nice. It tasted nice enough that he’d sometimes just make a whole thing of it for himself and have that as his dinner. He’d make sure to get lactose free cream, if that was a thing, and Lafayette had said that cheese didn’t really affect him, so that shouldn’t be a problem.

So, beef roast, beans with bacon, caramelized carrots, potato au gratin - and roast onions, of course, if he had beef roast. They gave the sauce their flavor, but they were also really nice on their own.

He would get fancy with it, too. There was a butcher around the corner who he could go to for the side of beef and the bacon, and a few blocks down there was a Turkish green grocer he could go to for the vegetables. Then a delicatessen for the cheese, and maybe he’d even swing by a speciality wine store if he could figure out which of those around work were more or less in his price class. 

He was extremely happy with his plan. And since his pasta also turned out pretty damn delicious, he actually felt that he might be able to pull it off.

He was going to cook a big roast spread for his boyfriend.

He could hardly wait for Friday night.


	16. Chapter 16

By the time his uber stopped in front of Hercules’ building, Lafayette had shoved the whole blow-out with Gordon as far into the back of his mind as he could. He’d decided he just didn’t fucking care. Come Monday, he would call his PR agency and either ask them to reassign him to another PR agent or change his agency completely, depending on what kind of mood he was in. Changing agencies would be a ton of work, of course, and even though he was still incredibly angry at Gordon, he’d rather not have to start a whole new account with a new PR firm. There’d be so many documents and so many meetings… The thought alone was honestly exhausting.

But all of this had time until Monday. For now, he wanted to think of nothing but Hercules, at least until he had that meeting on Saturday afternoon. And after that, who knew? He might come back to Hercules’ place, or he might get Hercules to come to his and have take-out with him and watch movies or something, and then he’d have him all for himself again until his brunch on Sunday with that French real estate developer.

Kinda strange, not having to think about which of his casuals he wanted to spend what time of the weekend with. He wasn’t even tempted to go clubbing. He’d still have to get used to this whole boyfriend-thing, but he was already pretty sure he’d get used to it in no time.

He rung Hercules’ bell and was let in almost immediately. Only when he was standing in the light hallway, with the elevator to his right and the staircase to his left did he realise that he had no idea what number Hercules’ flat was. He had looked it up when he had come here on Tuesday, but a lot had happened since then and honestly, he had never had the best head for numbers. So he lingered around for a moment as he sent Hercules a quick text, and looked around the foyer. There was a night porter’s station, but it was currently not staffed. The mail slots were next to that, but there were no names to go with the numbers either, just like it would be with the doors very likely. Everything was neat and clean, and even though Lafayette was used to quite a bit more posh environments, he could see that this definitely wasn’t a cheap place to live either.

His phone buzzed with Hercules’ answer, and he finally stepped into the elevator and pressed the button to his level.

Hercules was already waiting for him just outside his door when he left the elevator. The huge smile on his lips immediately washed Lafayette’s heart in warmth, as if the sun had come out on a cloudy day and was shining right down on him.

“Hey,” Hercules greeted him as he walked over, and Lafayette took his hand to squeeze it quickly and kissed his cheek, his lips lingering longer on his skin than they would have for a casual greeting.

“Hey,” he answered, a grin tucking on the corners of his mouth.

That was when he caught the smell of food wafting out of the apartment. He closed his eyes for a moment, still with Hercules’ hand in his, and inhaled. His stomach gave a desperate little growl - he hadn’t really eaten since lunch, and that hadn’t been a proper meal thanks to Gordon being an asshole.

But now was definitely not the time to think about that.

“Whatever you made for me, it smells delicious,” he said with a grin that was promptly answered in kind by Hercules.

“I hope it’ll taste good, too. Come on in.” He stepped aside, and Lafayette reluctantly let go of his hand to walk into his home.

Even though his belly was telling him very firmly to go wherever the food was right now, he still couldn’t help turning around and throwing his arms around Hercules for a proper kiss. Hercules chuckled against his lips and closed his door with his foot before he put his hands on Lafayette’s hips and kissed him back, slowly, languidly, as if they had all the time in the world. He was such a good kisser, with his soft, big mouth and his gentle, but insistent way of moving his lips against Lafayette’s, that Lafayette could have kept kissing him for hours if Hercules hadn’t finally pulled back.

“I would have thought you knew my apartment number? I mean, you did find it on Tuesday.”

Lafayette’s smile turned a little sheepish. “Yes, but I did not write it down. I need a while to remember numbers.”

Hercules leaned in for another little kiss against the corner of Lafayette’s mouth. “Better put it in your phone then for now. Though if it means I can have you at my place, I’d definitely not care if I had to give it to you again every time you come here.”

That earned him another kiss from Lafayette. But after a few more moments of this, Hercules took a step back and nodded towards the kitchen at one side of his living room.

“C’mon, there’s a roast in the oven and I don’t want it to get dry.”

Lafayette’s stomach growled again in response to those words.

“Well, lead the way, then,” he said.

Hercules led him to a small dining table next to his window which was already laid, with two wine glasses standing next to a bottle of a red that Lafayette knew to be in the upper price range. Hercules was working in the kitchen now, transferring things from several small pots onto their plates before he opened the stove and pulled out a few things. The delicious smell intensified, and Lafayette could feel his mouth water. If Hercules’ food tasted as good as it smelled, then he was definitely sure that he’d found a keeper.

Not that he hadn’t been sure of that before.

It looked fantastic, in any way. Not as fancy as in the restaurants he ate at so much, but honestly, Lafayette had a huge thing for home cocking, and the way Hercules had piled his plate with slightly imperfect-looking, but absolutely delicious smelling food had his mouth watering even more and his heart beating faster.

“If you don’t like any of this, you really don’t have to eat it,” Hercules said as he sat down with his own plate. “I just assumed you’d like beef, since you had lamb at that place we went to, and the vegetables are mainly the things I know how to cook well.” Was Lafayette imagining things, or was that a blush on Hercules’ face? “Like I said, if you don’t like any of it, feel free to just not eat it.”

Lafayette smiled as he took the open bottle of wine and started pouring Hercules’ a glass. “I eat pretty much any kind of vegetable, and really, everything looks absolutely delicious.”

He poured himself some wine too, then he lifted his glass, his eyes fixing Hercules’ as a feeling sweet and warm and comforting as chamomile tea with honey settled in his chest. “To us?”

Hercules’ grin was a little sheepish, but it crinkled his eyes in that way that made Lafayette’s entire body tingle. He also lifted his glass, and chinked it gently against Lafayette’s.

“To us.”

***

The food tasted as great as it smelled. The beef was so tender that Lafayette just had to ask Hercules how he had done that, because the one and only time he had tried to cook beef it had turned into a hardly edible piece of leather, and the potatoes were just the right mix of creamy and crispy. The carrots tasted sweet, and the bacon with the green beans was absolutely amazing. He appreciated that there was quite a bit of butter in both vegetable dishes (and likely in the potatoes too). Americans tended to be either horribly stingy on the butter, or just lather everything in it without giving any thought on other ways to make their food taste nice. But Hercules had used just enough butter to get out the taste, and then he had added herbs to the potatoes and the carrots, and he was pretty sure that the meat had also been touched with herbs in some way or another. All in all, Lafayette was so satisfied with the meal that when Hercules asked if he wanted a second helping, he said yes, which was something he usually really never did. His great genes might have given him a metabolism that forgave a lot of sins, but with how much he liked eating, getting used to second helpings could prove absolutely fatal, especially once his metabolism would slow later on in life. So if he wanted to stay a model for as long as he could, he still needed to exercise some control.

But tonight was not a night for control, tonight was for exploring and enjoying their new relationship.

So when he had finished his second helping and the glass of very nice wine Hercules had served with it, he stood up and walked around the table to his host, who was raising his eyebrows at him. But when he came to a halt behind him and put his hands on his shoulders, Hercules bent his head back to look up at him with an amused little twinkle in his eyes.

“What are you up to, hm?”

Lafayette bent down to press a gentle kiss against his temple, then he let his lips roam over Hercules’ for a second.

“I really, really enjoyed dinner,” he whispered, “but I am craving dessert right now…”

Hercules did his best to hide his grin, but it still came out in his eyes. “There’s chocolate ice cream in the freezer?”

“Hm… Not quite what I had in mind…”

His hands snaked down Hercules’ chest and he leaned down so he could kiss his neck and the side of his jaw. This close to his scent gland, he could smell his Alpha scent, musky and earthy like a meadow after the rain. He really needed to talk to him about getting off his scent blockers again… The mere thought of the strong, spicy smell that had enveloped him the first time he had met him made heat pool between his legs and soak his briefs.

“You didn’t let me play with your cock last time,” he whispered into his ear. “Don’t you want to make up for that?”

Hercules let out a deep, rumbling groan. “You’re going to be the death of me…” His large hands wrapped around Lafayette’s to give them a little squeeze, then he let himself be pulled out of his chair and into a deep, hot kiss.

Lafayette pulled back from the kiss with a sigh, smiling at the way Hercules’ pupils were blown wide open and his lips were just a tiny bit parted.

“Only a small death, mon amour,” he whispered, then he kissed him again.

He wasn’t sure whether Hercules understood the reference, but the grin on his lips became a little broader as he pushed against Lafayette’s body. He let his hands run down over his arms, to his hips, back to his ass, squeezing the thick globes through the jeans he was wearing. The way his body felt between his arms was amazing; big and strong and solid, but with a softness to it that made Lafayette want to rub his face all over his fuzzy belly. He had been thrilled when he had discovered that Hercules was hairier than he had originally thought, and that thought alone had his hands run up to the front of his shirt.

“Here is what is going to happen,” he whispered as he pulled his lips away from Hercules’ again. “First, I will get rid of every single scrap of fabric on both of us, then I will get you into the bedroom and I will play with your thick, beautiful cock until you beg me to let you come…” He breathed in Hercules’ groan and answered it with a tiny rub of his lips against his chin, “and then I will swallow your dick with my pussy and ride you into the sunset…” He licked over Hercules’ lower lip, pulling back just before the Alpha could kiss him. “Are you all right with that?”

Hercules let out a sound that was somewhere between a moan and a whimper. “Never been more alright with anything in my life,” he breathed, then he grabbed the back of Lafayette’s head and pressed their lips together again.

If he had been with anybody else, Lafayette was quite certain that he would have ripped the front of his shirt open without giving a second thought to the buttons while his lips were locked with Hercules’. But with Hercules being a tailor, and Lafayette knowing that this shirt was very likely pretty expensive, and, from the way it fit, likely tailored as well, he managed to slow himself down and instead opened every single one of his buttons while his tongue swept into Hercules’ mouth and chased the aftertastes of wine and beef and bacon. He’d give him a whole set of shirts at some point, he decided as his excited fingers fumbled with the last button; if he had been the one to give them to him, it would be absolutely alright for him to shred them.

But finally he had gotten the shirt off. With a gasp, he pulled out of the kiss, leaving Hercules with a deliciously glassy look in his eyes as he pushed the shirt off his shoulders and let it fall onto the chair behind him.

“Come on,” he whispered after he had let his eyes roam over that beautiful, massive body for a moment. He grabbed Hercules’ lower arm and pulled him towards his bedroom. It looked much the same as it had when he had been here the first time, though it did seem to be a little tidier. Not that Hercules was a slop or anything, but Lafayette did notice that there were some extra pillows on the bed now, which had been fluffed up with special care.

He turned around to Hercules and kissed him again, one hand against the back of his head, the other grabbing his side, which got him a little twitch from Hercules.

With a grin, Lafayette pulled away.

“Don’t tell me you are ticklish, my big, bad Alpha?” He dug his fingers into his side again, and sure enough, Hercules squirmed backwards a little again.

“I don’t think I’ve ever claimed to be ‘bad’,” Hercules said as he grabbed Lafayette’s hands to keep him from tickling. Lafayette wanted to pout, but Hercules pressed a little kiss to his jaw.

“True,” Lafayette conceded, and caught his lips in a short kiss again. “You are like a big, fluffy piece of pastry… Sweet and buttery and full of layers…”

“You give such interesting compliments…” Hercules’ cheeky grin made Lafayette catch his lips again, giving the lower one a little nip.

“I am just creative,” he said as he pulled away again, and a grin split his lips as he looked Hercules up and down. “Would you like me to show you just how creative I can be?”

“You are such a tease,” Hercules muttered, but then he allowed Lafayette to turn the two of them around and push him down on his bed, much like the first time they had been in here. But this time, when Lafayette knelt down on the carpet in front of the bed, Hercules didn’t pull him up or stop him in any other way. They were both still far too dressed for Lafayette’s liking, but he ignored that for now, because he really didn’t want either of them to get up before he hadn’t had his mouth full of Hercules’ cock.

A warm shiver ran down his spine and made his pussy throb when he pulled down the zipper right in front of him and shoved Hercules’ black underwear down to pull his cock out. Without saying anything, Hercules reached into his pocket and pulled out a wrapped condom, which he gave Lafayette with a little wink. Lafayette felt a whimper rise in his throat, but he waited to let it out until he had put first the condom and then his lips around Hercules’ cock, so he could feel the vibration of the little noise on his sensitive tip.

A hand grabbed his hair as he pushed himself farther down, but the grip immediately softened, and he heard Hercules’ rough voice ask: “Is it okay if I touch your hair?”

Lafayette just closed his eyes at that and let out an affirmative little hum, together with a tiny nod, before he finally pushed himself all the way onto the thick, hard cock in his mouth.

The hand just rested on his head now as Hercules tried to keep his breathing under control. Lafayette wouldn’t have been able to give it much attention anyway; he was completely caught in the feeling of that blunt head pushing at the entrance of his throat, filling up the back of his mouth so absolutely deliciously. His tongue, which he used to keep his lower teeth covered, was being pushed down by Hercules’ weight, and for a little while he didn’t move, neither his tongue nor his head. He just sat there, mouth full of cock, eyes closed, enjoying the hell out of this very moment.

But he had promised Hercules to show him how creative he could be.

First things first. With a little hum, he pulled back on Hercules’ cock without letting it out of his mouth, and let his mouth fill with saliva. This had been the hardest part for him when he had started sucking guys, much harder than to figure out how to deep-throat them - even though learning what the fuck to do with his upper teeth had also been a challenge. He honestly disliked the feeling of spit in his mouth, or on his lips, or anywhere else on his face, but since it did facilitate something he very much liked, he had learned to live with this part.

When he slid back down on Hercules’ cock, some of the spit was pushed out through the corners of his mouth, but he focused on the heavy flesh inside of him instead, making sure he was as slick and wet as he could make him before he let it slide completely out again. Gathering spittle on his tongue, he licked first along Hercules’ tip, then down to his base, moving his head in wave-like motions to avoid losing the contact between his tongue and the skin of his lover’s cock.

His efforts were rewarded with a low, throaty groan and a harder grip on his hair. Hercules wasn’t trying to control his motions, but it was very clear that he needed some way to express the pleasure he was feeling, so Lafayette gently took his hand from his head and took it in his own, entangling their fingers and giving him a light squeeze as he wrapped his lips around his head and then slid back down until his nose hit Hercules’ pubic bone.

He pulled back slowly, with little jerks forward every once in a while, turning his head this way and that to give pleasure to every part of Hercules’ cock he could reach. He varied the strength of his suction too, going from none at all to sucking the living daylights out of him in moments, and then slowly going back down until he was just using his head to slide up and down on his length.

A shiver ran through Hercules’ body, and Lafayette felt his fingers tighten around his hand. “You look so fucking hot like this…”

It was hard to grin around a dick, but Lafayette still managed it as he looked up at Hercules’ flushed face. He gave him a wink, since he really couldn’t respond any other way, and then snaked his head down again until Hercules’ cock was so far back his throat that he couldn’t breathe anymore.

“Fucking shit,” Hercules whispered as he closed his eyes and let his head fall back.

Lafayette sucked his cock until he had to come up for breath, then he closed his eyes and started to bob his head up and down a few times, twisting his head at the end of every upstroke so he could give his cock head a special little treat. Hercules’ hand squeezed his as he kept his bobbing up, intensifying it with the occasional drag of his teeth against his length, though never against his head, until he finally pulled away with one last, loud slurp.

A string of spittle broke as he looked up and grinned at Hercules, who was now looking at him again. His eyes were glassy, unfocused, his thighs were quivering, and the way he clung to his hand made Lafayette’s pussy clench deliciously. He raised Hercules’ hand to his lips and kissed his knuckles, slowly and deliberately, then he let go, stood up and started to strip.

Hercules sat up a little straighter as Lafayette let his shirt slip over his shoulders, hundreds of dollars worth of silk pooling around his legs. He let a teasing hand run down his neck, to his chest, just brushing a nipple while he held Hercules’ gaze. Licking his lips, he let his hand run farther down, over his flat stomach to his belt, which he opened with deliberate movements. His pants joined the shirt on the floor, and he stepped forward, between Hercules’ still spread thighs, and ran a hand over his head while the other cupped his cheek.

“Like what you see, mon amour?”, he whispered, eyes half-closed as he watched Hercules’ dark brown eyes wander down his body.

“Very, very much,” Hercules rumbled, a noise so deep that Lafayette was sure he was feeling it in his bones.

With a grin, he leaned down - bringing his chest to Hercules’ mouth in the process and receiving a little kiss to his nipple - to grab a hold of Hercules’ hand. With a teasing grin, he lifted the hand to his still satin covered crotch and guided his fingers behind his hard, dripping cock, where his pussy was leaking through the fabric.

“That’s what sucking that beautiful dick has done to me,” Lafayette whispered hoarsely, and then he immediately let out a pleased whine when Hercules started to stroke him through the briefs.

Hercules’ grinned at that noise, and leaned forward to nose at the wet spot at the top of the pants while his fingers pushed harder against his wet folds.

“Are you gonna give me that pussy anytime soon, or are you still not done teasing me?”

Lafayette grinned back and let the tip of his tongue run over his upper lip. “Can’t wait to feel me all wrapped up around your cock, huh?”

“Hm… You know it, baby…”

Hercules’ hand vanished from Lafayette’s covered pussy, and his fingers hooked into the waistband of his briefs. Lafayette covered those large, clever hands with his own, and together they pulled down his last bit of coverage.

“You need to get out of those too,” Lafayette said with a grin as he flung his underwear behind him without looking, and then pulled Hercules up so he could get to work on his pants as well. But before he could pull them down, Hercules had taken his face in his hands and kissed his lips again.

Lafayette indulged him for a while, moulding his slim body against his larger one, enjoying the feeling of his hands nearly encompassing his face, his mouth swallowing his tongue and every little noise he made, until he finally pulled away with a smile, completely aware of the fuzzy, dorky smile on his face, but unable to do anything about it.

“If you keep doing this, I’ll lose all my focus, and what then, hm?” he asked, rubbing his nose against Hercules’ chin. “Then we’ll be here till tomorrow and you’ll still not have fucked me…”

Hercules grinned back at him. “I don’t know if it would be really so bad to just kiss you all night…” He caught his lips in another kiss, but then he finally pushed his pants down and shimmied out of his own underwear, all without taking his lips from Lafayette’s skin - his lips first, then his chin, his neck, his chest…

Lafayette let out a little gasp when he felt teeth at his nipple.

“That’s enough now,” he said, and his urgency made his voice a lot more serious than he had wanted it to be. It made Hercules look up with a frown on his face, but before he could say anything Lafayette had his hands on his shoulder and was pushing him back onto the bed again.

They landed in a slightly undignified sprawl, but dignity was really the last thing on Lafayette’s mind right now. He didn’t even wait for Hercules to shimmy back far enough on the bed to get his legs all the way on it, but just straddled his lap and took his cock in hand.

It took only a few strokes of his hand to get it back to full hardness. With a grin on his face and his eyes locking with Hercules’, he positioned himself just so that the tip of his lover’s thick cock was pushing against the wet folds of his pussy. His heart was pounding with excitement, and he could feel it throbbing between his legs as he slowly sank down and pushed that hard, waiting dick right into his wetness.

Hercules filled his cunt as well as he had filled his mouth, if not better. No, definitely better, Lafayette thought as he pushed down as far as he could go, until his cock was brushing up against Hercules’ soft belly. A chocked-off moan rose in his throat, and he closed his eyes and lay his head back for a moment to just feel, to follow the sparks of pleasure that were shooting through his body. He felt the muscles in his thighs tighten, and he did his best to stop them, to just let his weight do the work and push him as far down on Hercules as possible.

Hercules’ hands were hot when they grabbed his hips, and his chest was rising and falling under Lafayette’s hands as they finally started to move together. At first it was Lafayette who was dictating the rhythm, riding Hercules like he had promised. He moved up and down on him, undulating his hips as if he was really sitting on a horse and using his weight to make it go faster, and with every downward motion a low moan passed his lips, a constant string of small “Mmhs,” while Hercules’ deeper, more rumbling noises shot right through his bloodstream, mixing with his own pleasure and making his head spin.

But apparently he was moving a little too slow for Hercules; or at least he couldn’t, and didn’t want to, think of any other explanation why he suddenly noticed a shift in Hercules’ legs beneath him. With the position he was in, he could brace his feet on the floor, and that seemed to be exactly what he did, because moments later he started to thrust up into Lafayette, his hands now holding his hips in his strong grasp. Lafayette’s eyes rolled back in his head and his head rolled back on his shoulders as he was fucked like a blow-up doll, hard and fast and deep.

“Make yourself come for me,” Hercules groaned, and Lafayette answered with a moan of his own as his hand grasped his own leaking cock and spread the precum all over it before he started to stroke himself in the rhythm of the thrusts that shook his entire body. He came with a deep shiver and a low sob, some of his cum escaping his hand and hitting Hercules’ fluffy, quivering belly.

Lafayette pulled off him as soon as the last pulse of his orgasm had ended. He grabbed Hercules by the wrists and sank back to the floor, the motion pulling Hercules up, and immediately he started mouthing at the pulsing length of his wet cock.

“C’mon,” he whispered, and that seemed to be all the goading Hercules needed to grab Lafayette by the hair with one hand and use the other hand to bring himself off, while he was staring right into Lafayette’s eyes, with a look so intense that Lafayette felt as if he was about to come again.

When Hercules let go of himself and slumped back on the bed, Lafayette pressed a little kiss to his thigh and then got rid of the condom for him. He located a little waste bin in the corner, and then came back to the bed, where Hercules had moved farther up and was now cleaning his belly with a tissue.

Lafayette laid down next to Hercules and rested his head against his shoulder. Hercules immediately put his arm around him and pulled him closer, until Lafayette had one of his legs over his and one hand on his belly.

“Once we get the whole testing thing done, I really want you to come in my mouth,” Lafayette murmured, cuddling his cheek against Hercules’ warm, slightly sweaty skin.

“Hmm,” Hercules replied, lazily petting Lafayette’s side with the arm he was lying on. “You’ll have to let me suck you off too, then.”

“Don’t worry,” Lafayette said with a little grin. “If you want, you can suck me dry…”

“With how juicy you are, I really don’t think that’s possible,” Hercules replied, and Lafayette couldn’t help the chuckle that came out at that.

“You are ridiculous.”

“I might just be,” Hercules turned his head and looked down at Lafayette. “Ridiculously in love with you.”

“Awwww…” He could feel tears rise in his eyes, and he quickly hid his face against Hercules’ neck. “You cannot say things like that…”

“What, will you send the kitsch police after me?” A broad, warm hand ran through Lafayette’s hair, then down over the back of his neck before it squeezed his shoulder. “I can’t help it, Gilbert. You’re too wonderful for me not to fall in love with you…” He made a special effort to pronounce the name right, and he nearly got it, which made Lafayette’s heart flutter nearly as much as his admission.

“I might be in the same predicament,” Lafayette replied, peeking up at Hercules’ face. “I am really happy we are making this work.”

Hercules smiled and kissed his forehead.

“You’ve not been to the clinic yet, right? How about we go there tomorrow morning, together?”

Lafayette made a face at that for a moment, but then he let his hand run over Hercules’ belly. “Alright. I wanted to spend all morning in bed with you, but I guess we can go back to bed once we are done there…”

“There are going to be a lot of mornings in bed, if I have my way,” Hercules whispered, and Lafayette couldn’t help his grin at that. He leaned up to kiss his lips.

“And I mean, we can get some of the things we would be doing tomorrow morning done now, no?”

“Hmm…” Hercules let the hand that had been petting his side slide down lower. “Sounds like a plan…”


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that you had to wait so ridiculously long for this. I‘ll do my best not to let you wait two months for the last chapter, I swear :‘)
> 
> You might have noticed that I turned this fic into part of a series. I don‘t know how much I‘m going to add to this series, but there will definitely be a few smutty one-shots - one is already written. So if you want to read more about these two cuddlebugs (and maybe about some other guys joining them at some point, if I ever get off my arse and write the follow-ups in my mind), then you should defintiely subscribe to the series.

When Herc woke up the next morning, Lafayette was still sleeping, cuddled against his biceps, one long leg entangled with his. At some point during the night, he had gotten a purple silk bonnet out of the little overnight bag he had brought, and while he looked incredibly cute with his slightly out-of-shape beard and the absolute relaxation on his face, he did remind Herc of his mom for a moment. Though her bonnets had been a lot more frilly and pink, and most of them had been hand-made. He could distinctly see a label peek out behind Lafayette’s ear.

But even though he felt reminded of his mum, there was also another, stronger emotion creeping up on him. This was such a private, intimate moment, waking up next to Lafayette with his beard scruffy and his hair wrapped up and just completely relaxed, sleeping like a little baby even when Herc turned to his side so he could have a better look at him. His lips were pink and slightly open, and a tiny bit of drool hung at the corner of his mouth. He must have spend some time lying with half his face on the pillow, because one of his eyebrows was pressed in the wrong direction, making him look even more dishevelled, and even more irresistible.

Herc didn’t want to wake him up, but when he saw that Lafayette’s eyelids started to flutter, he leaned over to kiss his forehead, then his cheek, then his lips. They were gentle, sweet little kisses, not meant to start anything, just meant as a little good morning.

Lafayette opened his eyes sleepily, and immediately a wide grin appeared on his face.

“Hey,” he said, his voice slightly hoarse, and Herc had to do his best not to think about the cause of this sore throat. Instead, he smiled and kissed the tip of Lafayette’s nose.

“Guess I should invest in some satin pillowcases, hm?”

Lafayette yawned, turning his face into the cotton pillow. “Nah,” he mumbled against the fabric before he turned around again. “I like cotton better than satin to sleep on. Bonnet’s enough.”

“Alright.” Herc rolled over so that he was hovering over Lafayette, the blanket over his back but nothing but warm air between their bodies. “I don’t want to be the reason why your hair doesn’t look as good as it can…”

Lafayette laughed at that and put his hands on Herc’s shoulders, his fingertips gently kneading his muscles. “You worry about keeping my belly and my pussy happy, and I’ll take care of my hair, deal?”

“Deal.” He couldn’t help but feel proud at the indirect praise of his cooking skills. There hadn’t been a lot he could have done wrong with the sex yesterday, what with Lafayette basically doing all the work there, but he had put quite a lot of work into dinner, and it was a great feeling that Lafayette had apparently appreciated his food.

Speaking of food…

He leaned down to kiss Lafayette’s lips again, then he jumped out of bed.

“I’m going to whip up some breakfast, alright?”

Lafayette yawned again and sat up. “Alright. I need to do my morning routine anyway…” He grabbed his overnight bag and started to pull out about half a dozen of different bottles and cream pots. Herc could hardly keep himself from rolling his eyes. He really should have known that Lafayette had a super involved “morning routine”. He was dating a model, that was totally expected. He wondered whether he had done more in his bathroom last night than just pee and put on his bonnet…

While Lafayette started the tab in his bathroom, Herc made his way to the kitchen and put a pan on the stove. It was Saturday, so he whipped up a patch of blueberry pancakes, plus some thick, Canadian bacon he had bought in a little speciality place he had found recently. He squeezed some fresh oranges, because damn if this wasn’t a special occasion, and then put a platter with the rest of the blueberries, some cut bananas, apples and pears on the table. Just when he was putting the third patch of pancakes onto another platter, Lafayette came out of the bathroom, all shiny with skin care product, his hair even more poofy and soft-looking than it already had before.

“That smells absolutely amazing,” Lafayette rumbled as he approached Herc from the back and hugged him around the waist. Herc could feel his long-fingered hands rub gently over his belly, and even though he still felt self-conscious about how husky he was, he managed to relax into his arms.

“Just trying to get you properly fed…” He gave back, then he put the bacon on two plates and handed them to Lafayette before he grabbed the pancake plate.

Lafayette grinned and pressed a little kiss onto Herc’s cheek. “I’ll have to be careful around you, Hercules, or I will have to find myself a different career…”

Herc let out a little snort. “A couple of pancakes every other week isn’t going to ruin that perfect body of yours, for sure.”

That was met with a pair of raised eyebrows and a poignant look at the pancakes piling on the plate Herc set on the table now.

“A couple of pancakes maybe not, mon cher, but I cannot say that this would be a ‘couple’. That looks more like a very involved polyamorous setup.”

Herc snorted out a laugh, then he gave him a little kiss back. “Sit down and eat your polyamorous pancakes, honey. The sirup’s behind the orange juice.”

Lafayette raised his eyebrows again as he settled down at the table.

“Honey?”

Herc wagged his own eyebrows at him as he sat down and poured first Lafayette and then himself some fresh orange juice.

“You’re always giving me pet names, so I wanted to get in on the action. Would you prefer something else? I could also go with baby, sweetheart, darling… Gillyflower…”

The last one made Lafayette snort so hard that he let go of his fork, which clattered onto the pancake-and-fruit loaded plate in front of him.

“Gillyflower??” he asked, his voice sounding aghast, but obviously very close to laughing his ass off. His face looked like he was in a moderate amount of pain at trying to keep himself from cracking up.

“What, they’re great flowers. Beautiful and delicate and colorful.”

He put a small piece of pancake in his mouth, then looked up at Lafayette again, a little nervous about how this compliment would be received. Lafayette shook his head, but he had a pleased little smile on his face.

“You are quite impossible,” he said.

“Oh, I know,” Herc said. “I’m sitting here with the most beautiful man I’ve ever laid eyes on, eating a delicious breakfast after a night I spent fucking just that man, and after this we are going to get tests so we can do it bareback, which means that beautiful, incredible man I am with right now plans to be with me for quite a while longer. That does seem pretty damn impossible to me. And yet, here we are…”

He felt incredibly sappy, but Lafayette seemed to be quite pleased. He reached out one hand to put it on Herc’s, then he looked him right in the eyes and said: “I guess that proves once again that nothing is impossible…”

Herc lifted Lafayette’s hand to his lips and gave his knuckles a little kiss.

They finished their breakfast in companionable, comfortable silence, with Lafayette’s outstretched right leg brushing against the calf of Herc’s left leg the whole time. They loaded the dishwasher together, then Lafayette vanished into the bedroom while Herc went and washed up in the bathroom. When they both came out into the living room again, Lafayette, dressed in more than just his underwear now, had put his hair back into a severe ponytail, and he’d put on a gigantic pair of sunglasses and a scarf that might have been season appropriate, but still looked as if he hadn’t just put it on for the sake of keeping his neck warm.

“Worried about paparazzi or something?” Herc asked as he walked past him into his bedroom to get his own clothes.

Lafayette made a face behind his sunglasses and then pushed them up, which was a very sensible thing since they were indoors. “Honestly, yes. We have been lucky so far, but they are sneaky little bastards, and I would really rather not be spotted in broad daylight walking into a reproductive health clinic.”

He came to the bedroom door, watching Herc as he put on a simple white button-down and a pair of dark jeans.

“I mean, I am used to them, you know. I don’t care all that much, even though I would rather not have my personal doctor appointments spread throughout the internet. But I’m especially worried about you, to be honest.”

That made Herc look up from his buttons. “About me?”

“I just really don’t want you to get pulled into my whole persona, you know.” Lafayette was fidgeting a little with the end of his scarf, and Hercules was surprised to realise that he was nervous.

With his lower buttons still open, he walked over to Lafayette and put his arms around him.

“If you don’t want the press to know about our relationship, I’m absolutely cool with that. But if that is difficult for you, or if you feel like it puts any pressure on you, I want you to know that I really don’t care who knows about us.”

He wasn’t sure if it was the truth; he had never been in the focus of the press, after all. He knew that he was more comfortable keeping his private life private when he was working, but really, if he was dating a top model, some publicity was bound to be involved, right?

Lafayette hugged him back for a moment, then he pulled away and looked Herc in the face.

“Thank you for saying that. But if at any point, it becomes a problem for you, you tell me, yes?”

Herc nodded and kissed his lips again. They were so soft and sweet that he really couldn’t imagine there was anything he wouldn’t give to keep kissing them day after day after day. “Want to get going?”

Lafayette nodded, but then he grinned and grabbed the lower end of Herc’s shirt front, where, as he now remembered, his buttons were still open.

“Let’s finish wrapping you up first, alright? Even if there are no paparazzi, I don’t want the entire world to see all that delicious belly… Somebody might try and take it away from me, otherwise.”

Herc had to grin at that. “Don’t worry, this is all yours.”

Lafayette hummed lowly. “You bet it is…”

********************

They finally left Herc’s flat after another ten minutes of teasing and kissing. It was kind of ridiculous, but Herc didn’t think he’d ever been this happy. They decided to walk to the clinic since it was a beautiful, sunny autumn morning, and when Lafayette took Herc’s hand in his as they walked side by side, Herc was sure that his heart was going to explode with how full it felt.

They had just missed rush hour, which Herc was immensely grateful for. As they walked along the streets, they mostly staid silent, both of them consumed by their own thoughts, though once in a while Lafayette would run his thumb over Herc’s skin, or Herc would squeeze Lafayette’s hand. It was very obvious that they were not silent at each other, just silent with each other, and that too made Herc’s heart feel warm in his chest.

He did have to admit that he was a little worried, though. It was definitely not the first time he had taken a test for STDs, but it had been quite a while. Mainly because he hadn’t slept with anybody in a long time. But as always with these sorts of things, worries that would have been totally unreasonable if he had actually been able to reason with them swirled through his head like a dust storm. What if he had caught something without noticing? There were other ways than just sex to pick up these kind of things, right? He couldn’t exactly think of any that would apply to him, but that didn’t mean that there weren’t any. What if he did have anything? Would that put Lafayette off? What if it turned out he had some nasty bullshit that could be transmitted by kissing? What if Lafayette decided he wasn’t worth the trouble?

Woah. Where had that thought come from? He squeezed Lafayette’s hand again, and from the corner of his eye he saw Lafayette turn towards him and give him a little smile. His heart stuttered at the beauty of his smiling face, and he turned around to kiss his lips gently as they waited at a stoplight. When he pulled back, he could see himself in Lafayette’s sunglasses.

He also noticed that he was starting to fixate on his smell. There were so many different smells all around them, Alphas and Omegas and food and gas and dirt, but between all those smells, Lafayette’s seemed to stand out like a traffic cone in a snowy field.

He suddenly remembered what Lafayette had said about his scent blockers. That he would make sure he’d smell claimed, so his scent wouldn’t irritate other Alphas or intimidate Omegas around him.

It was very obvious that Lafayette wanted to actually smell his scent. He wondered how he would feel if Lafayette was wearing scent blockers, and being obstinate about stopping to use them. Of course, it was his own body, and it was absolutely his choice, but if he was in a relationship with him, wouldn’t he feel at least a little bit irritated? There were certain expectations about Alpha-Omega relationships, and while Herc thought most of those expectations were absolute bullshit, he still got why you would want to smell your partner, and would want them to smell like you, too.

He’d ask the medical staff at the clinic whether there was anything he had to be careful about when he stopped using scent blockers. But he would stop using them. Maybe not right away - they hadn’t been together long enough for his body to realize what was going on. The best way to do this was if they could maybe find a long weekend, spend the whole time in bed, make sure that he would smell like Omega enough to avoid any negative reactions to his unblocked smell when he came into work again. He’d have to check the calendar. Though of course, he guessed calendars meant very little in the modelling business. After all, Lafayette even worked Sundays.

He’d bring this up with him later, once the testing was taken care of.

They finally reached the clinic. There were quite a few people, but not enough for them to be worried about time issues. Lafayette needed to be at a meeting at 3, but since it was only 10, they’d have plenty of time for that. So they filled in all necessary forms, and then sat down next to each other in the waiting area.

“Is it alright if I come back to your place after the meeting?” Lafayette asked as he pulled Herc’s hand onto his thigh, keeping it covered with his own.

“Of course it is,” Herc said, leaning over to kiss Lafayette’s cheek. “There is still plenty of roast beef left that needs to be taken care of.”

Lafayette grinned at that. He was still wearing his glasses, which Herc thought was a tiny bit over the top, but he didn’t comment, since Lafayette definitely knew better how to protect his privacy than Herc.

“Or you could take the leftovers and come to my place?” Lafayette asked, squeezing Herc’s hand gently. “You have not been there yet, and I would like to show it to you. It is quite, how do you say… Swanky.”

Herc smiled, partially because Lafayette saying “swanky” sounded really funny, and partially because Lafayette obviously wanted him in his space, and he was eager to find out how his lover lived. Honestly, there was still so much he wanted to find out about him, and being in his apartment would definitely help with that.

“I would love to come to you. Do you want to call me when your meeting ends, and we meet at your place?”

Lafayette shook his head. “I’ll take a taxi from my meeting and pick you up at your place, if that is alright with you. Just make sure you bring the leftovers, because my fridge is in a very empty condition.”

“Alright,” Herc said and leaned over to give him a small kiss to his lips. “I’m really looking forward to seeing your apartment.”

“It has a fantastic view,” Lafayette said, a little smug smile on his lips. Then he leaned in a little and in a low, rumbling voice said: “And I have a gigantic bed…”

Herc raised his eyebrows at that. “Tease…” he muttered, squeezing Lafayette’s thigh gently.

“I can’t help it if you are sitting right next to me, looking so absolutely delicious,” Lafayette gave back.

“Hmm…” He grinned as he let his fingers run over Lafayette’s knee. “Right back at ya…”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a moment, then Lafayette took Herc’s hand and held it until he was called into the examination room.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaand this is it, holy fuck. The last chapter. Finally!
> 
> Like I said in the last chapter notes, there still is more to come for this verse. One sequel-fic is already done, and it‘s 5000 words of pure smut, so you should definitely subscribe to the series so you don‘t miss out on that one :D
> 
> And now have fun with Laf‘s and Herc‘s happy ending <3

The examination went as these things always went - slightly embarrassing, but completely professionally handled by medical staff who did this exact thing fifty times a day. After both of them were done, they were told that they’d be getting the first results on Monday by phone, and that they would get the complete test results by mail a few days later.

Even before they had been called into the examination room, Lafayette had been aware of the vague feeling that he was being watched. Of course, this was a feeling he was so familiar with that he only noticed it because of how attuned he had become to Hercules’ presence; any waves that disturbed the pool of warm stillness that was the peace he was feeling around him seemed all the more significant. And really, he had gone out of his way to make sure nobody would recognize him, so it was a matter of course that the feeling of staring eyes would disturb him more than usual.

He hadn’t quite been able to figure out who of the people waiting in the room with them had been the one who was watching him. There was always a lot of awkward looking-at-nothing that happened in waiting rooms, and just because a person’s eyes strayed in his direction, or even hung on him, didn’t mean that they were actually looking at him.

It only became clear who had been watching them when he came out of the exam room and sat down in the waiting room again to wait for Hercules to come out as well. When he did, Lafayette stood up to give him a little kiss on the lips - and just at that moment a young man in the corner of the room raised his phone, pointed the camera at them, and then lowered it again. Lafayette turned to him, tried to stare him down, but the boy kept his eyes on his phone, typing something while his face was flushed with embarrassment.

“Fuck,” Lafayette whispered between clenched teeth.

“What?” Hercules asked, his expression immediately turning worried. “Did anything happen in there?”

“Not in the examination room,” Lafayette said. “Just now, that boy…” He nodded towards the offender. “He just took a picture of us.”

“He did?” Hercules looked at the boy in the corner, who was now packing up his things. “I’ll go over and ask him to delete the image.”

He already wanted to move towards the corner, when Lafayette held his hand. “He’s likely already posted it. It’s out there, can’t bring that back now.”

His brain was working overtime as he led Hercules outside of the clinic and a little down the street. There was only one way he could think of to avoid any gossip coming up. Of course, it would be difficult to keep people from wagging their mouths - was that the expression? - about his visit to a public health clinic, but even those might be silenced if he pulled the right strings right now.

Once they were a block away from the clinic, Lafayette turned to Hercules again, and took his hand.

“I know we have not talked about this yet, and I actually planned to do talk about it with you, because I did not want to have it very public for now, our new, precious relationship,” he told him. “It is not that I want to hide you or anything, but everything that turns into a part of my… my ‘image’… It is just…” He grabbed his sunglasses and pulled them off, then he gesticulated with them as he tried to explain what he was thinking and feeling. “I wanted to keep you for myself a little longer. I always knew it would be public sooner or later, but I thought I could make it be later, you know… I should have known that this would not work like I wanted it to.” He made a face, then he looked into Hercules eyes, pleading for understanding with his own. “Now that this happened, it might be that it already is public as we speak, even if people will only think you are some random friend with benefits of mine. And I don’t want them to think that. If people must know about us, I want them to know that I am serious about you.”

Hercules seemed speechless, or maybe he didn’t quite know what Lafayette was suggesting. So Lafayette pulled out his phone.

“Let’s put a shot of both of us on my Instagram, alright? I will write something below it that will make it clear that I am committed to you, if the picture alone will not say enough. I don’t usually take couple shots, and my followers and fans might understand what I mean without any caption.”

Hercules hesitated. Lafayette watched him closely, and he could see a slew of different emotions on his face, sometimes mixing, sometimes alternating. Confusion, insecurity, hope, joy, scepticism, if he had to guess. He obviously wasn’t sure what to think about the situation. And maybe he didn’t want their relationship to become public?

But before Lafayette could go too far down that rabbit hole of insecurities and fear, Hercules finally nodded, and then ran a hand over his hair as if to straighten it.

“Alright,” he said. “Let’s do that.”

Lafayette couldn’t help but kiss his lips again as relief washed over him. The thought that Hercules actually wanted the world to know about their relationship - or was at least willing to follow Lafayette’s lead on how to best make it known to the world - made his heart ache again for this wonderful man who he was fortunate enough to call his boyfriend.

“Very well,” he said, then he opened the instagram app and put his arm around Hercules’ shoulders, before he decided on a different pose and instead put his head on Hercules’ shoulder and his arm behind his back. He let his hand slip under his shirt, which made Hercules twitch for a second before he turned to rub his face against Lafayette’s hair with a little hum.

“Get ready,” Lafayette whispered, then he held up the phone and snapped a number of pictures of the two of them, until he finally had the absolutely perfect one. It caught Hercules’ face just as he turned his head a tiny bit towards Lafayette, and it made him look beautifully soft, sweet, and handsome as all fuck.

“This one,” Lafayette said as he showed it to Hercules, who nodded.

“Your expression on that one is great,” he said, and Lafayette couldn’t help blushing just a little bit. He was a model, having great expressions on pictures was basically his job, but still, every compliment from Hercules felt like warm, honeyed tea on a rainy winter afternoon.

“Alright, here we go,” he muttered, leaning his weight a little more against Hercules, literally leaning on him for support, and getting it from the large, warm hand that appeared on his hip. He thought about the caption for a few moments before he typed:

/Guess who caught himself a real life boyfriend?/

He wasn’t super sure about that caption, though, and he fretted for a few moments before Hercules gently kissed his cheek.

“Just send it,” he said. “The picture is the important part, and that you call me your boyfriend.” A broad grin appeared on Hercules’ face at that word, and Lafayette’s heart ached again.

“Okay,” he finally said, then he sent the picture and the caption out into the inescapable infinity of the internet.

He shut off his phone after he did that. He could look at the reactions later, and he really didn’t need to read all the messages he’d be getting in the next few minutes in real time. All he needed right now was his boyfriend.

He turned to Hercules and kissed his lips again.

“It’s only twelve, I still have plenty of time before that appointment… How about we grab some lunch and head back to your apartment?”

He was doing his best to make his voice sound suggestive, and Hercules, perfectly attuned to him, picked it up right away. He grinned again and gave his lips such a gentle, lingering kiss as if he wanted to map every little detail of his taste.

He pulled back again, and in his low, raspy bedroom voice, he said: “I would love that.” 

Their eyes met, locked, and a warm shiver of pure joy ran through Lafayette’s whole body. He put his arms around Hercules’ broad shoulders and kissed him again.

He could hardly believe how lucky he was.


End file.
